Predators and Prey
by Moonbeam's Predilections
Summary: [KR: Fire & Ice AU-Mag7: ATF AU Crossover] Nick gets kidnapped and Karr heads for Denver to get help from a former secret operative turned federal agent. Features Vin Tanner (M7) and Karr (KR). (Complete)
1. Predators and Prey: Intro

Disclaimer: Vin and the rest of The Magnificent Seven are copyrighted to TNN, CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, and The Mirisch Corp. The ATF AU was created by Mog. Michael, Kitt and the Knight Rider premise belong to Glen A. Larson and Universal. Nick, Karr, and the neural link belong to Birgit Stäbler. These stories are strictly for entertainment, yours and my own. No monetary gain is made from them. Please don't sue.  
  
Umbra #1: Predators and Prey By Moonbeam (mbeam@hotmail.com)  
  
Category: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Action/Adventure, some Angst, some Humor. No Romance. No Original Characters, no Mary-Sues!  
  
Rating: PG-13 due to violence and language.  
  
Summary: Nick gets kidnapped and Karr heads for Denver to get help from a former secret operative turned federal agent. Features Vin Tanner (M7) and Karr (KR). Set in 2001: three years into The Magnificent Seven's ATF Alternate Universe, and three years into Michael and Kitt's partnership with Nick and Karr in Gryph's Knight Rider 'Fire & Ice' Alternate Universe. Mainly KR-oriented, but with strong M7 representation.  
  
Author's Notes: These stories are unusual. They are crossovers, but they cross two previously established alternate universes. In the Magnificent Seven fandom, a wonderful woman named Mog created and opened the ATF AU. It has since been built into a whole new world that has become as real as the original Old West of the TV series. In the Knight Rider fandom, Gryph has had no less of an impact with the creation of her Fire & Ice AU. The characters of Alex, Nash, Nick and Karr, and the creation of the neural link, are copyrighted to Birgit Stäbler (a.k.a. Gryph or Macx). They are used with permission. (These stories have no relation to Macx's Borderlines or Denuo AUs.)  
  
Special Thanks: First, a big thanks to my three betas! Val (JJJunky), Timovena, and even Gryph herself -- your input was invaluable. Gryph especially, for being so kind as to allow me to borrow her interesting characters and to answer my many questions so I could do them justice. There are brief references to events in her stories "Beyond Loyalty", "Payback", "The File", and "Liability". Thank you to Mog, for starting the M7 ATF AU, and to those great authors who've continued it. Also to those who provided name's for the Seven's horses. Vin's horse, Peso, uses his own name. Ezra's horse, Chaucer, I believe was originated by Kristen. And credit for Chris's horse, Pony, goes to LaraMee. Lastly, thanks to my father (an electrical engineer) for his technical expertise.  
  
On to the story . . . 


	2. Predators and Prey: Part One

PART ONE:  The blackness of the room matched his mood. Empty pupils dilated until the rings of the glittering irises were mere slivers of faded color, and yet the usually observant eyes saw nothing. Slowly, tired lids dropped in futility and shut out the quiet darkness of the external world. Internally, however, the wandering mind was awash in activity. Formless thoughts drifted and puttered aimlessly in random circles, distracting in their itinerancy. 

Then one thought met another and found it liked what it saw. Like wisps of smoke, the thoughts bled and twined together until they formed a new whole. A third thought passed too close and was swept up to join the pair. Like a star collapsing in upon itself, the combined thoughts gained weight and strength. Drawn to the gravitational power of that new strength, more and more swirling wisps of thought organized themselves as they streamed down toward it. Circling and gyrating, growing closer to the mental black hole, the wandering thoughts sought purpose and form. Once disjointed and ephemeral, they gradually melded together, warping the original with each addition. Like the pieces of a puzzle, they built upon one another until a new and infinitely more powerful thought came into being. A thought, that when looked at once the puzzle was complete, revealed a fascinating new concept: an idea.

The mind, now occupied by this idea, twisted and turned as it examined it from all sides. It squeezed and bent the idea, manipulated and molded it into better shape as new thoughts were sucked in. The idea grew, altered, and grew some more.

The figure, shrouded in darkness, felt the weathered lines on his face wrinkle as his thin lips pulled back to reveal flattened white teeth. A smile emerged, lost in the darkness, hiding its cruelty.

The idea had become a plan.

The grin widened, shark-like in its wicked pleasure. The mental picture show started up again, clearer than before as this time it was accompanied by a backdrop of the developing plan. New thoughts were born, fed by deeply buried emotions. They fluttered about, straining for recognition, until finally being drawn into the growing maelstrom. There they added new dimensions to the forming plan: disappointment, bitterness, scorn, anger, malice, and lastly anticipation. Beneath it all ran a driving need for vengeance.

It all melded together; fortifying the plan until it grew all consuming.

Soon, thought the displaced General of a fallen army.

Soon, he would have his revenge.

Soon…

*******

Alex stared out through the windshield as Karr drove down the secondary highway. They were now less than an hour outside of Denver, Colorado; thanks to some judicious speeding by the Artificial Intelligence housed under the hood of the specialized sports car. Karr was maintaining a constant surveillance on the position of every law enforcement vehicle in the area, and with total control over his own vehicular body, could easily avoid detection. Both the extreme speed and the extreme caution were warranted.

Shifting in the driver's seat, Dr. Alexandra Christopher settled into the warm comfort of the customized seat with a grimace. Her side was throbbing. A thin trickle of blood leaked out, despite her best attempts to bandage the wound with the Stealth's huge first-aid kit.

Karr, monitoring her even more closely than he was the road, unobtrusively increased the oxygen flow and raised the cabin temperature another few degrees. 

Alex smiled in gratitude, choosing to ignore the uncomfortable fact that Karr had needed to do that several times since they'd set out on this mad journey.

This was not how she'd planned her first real vacation in months. Alex had been busy with her research, and had barely heard from her lover of almost a decade beyond the occasional email. Though that was not unusual as far as her relationship with ex-CIA agent Nicholas MacKenzie went, she'd been looking forward to spending some quality downtime with him. Even knowing Karr would be there didn't bother her, for she knew and accepted the AI as an integral part of him. They were partners and she had a deep respect for the sanctity of that relationship.

She just wished one of them could learn how to stay out of trouble for more than five minutes.

"How much longer, Karr?" she asked, disrupting the silence of the soundproofed cabin.

"Our ETA is 48.6 minutes to Denver's city limits. How long it will take to reach our exact destination remains to be determined." 

"Hmm…" She straightened her left leg, curling her toes against the strain along her ribs. 

"You should remain still. Movement will only aggravate your injury." 

Alex smiled at the dashboard, touched as she heard the faint hint of concern tingeing Karr's normally emotionless voice. "Yes, doctor." 

A subvocal growl was the only response to her teasing. Mindful of her wound, she chuckled lightly at the feel of that soft rumbling vibrating through the seat beneath her. Few would have sensed it, fewer still would know what it meant. 

Unfortunately for Karr, she was one of the few. 

"I would not be insulting the person responsible for your continued well-being if I were you, Dr. Christopher." Karr snarled, his voice modulator deepening in tone to add weight to the threat. 

"Oh, posh!" she scoffed. "Try it on someone who doesn't know you, Karr. You might be able to fool everyone else into thinking you're this big bad AI, but underneath the indestructible exterior, you're just a big pussy cat." 

"_Pussy_ cat?!" 

"Yes, a pussy cat. Oh, a big cat to be sure -- like a panther or something. But tamed to kitten ferocity." 

"Tamed…!" The AI seemed at a loss for words, and Alex grinned at her apparent victory. But the reprieve was short lived. With a boost of speed, Karr was back in the game. 

"A cat I may be, but don't ever think I'm tamed. Even weakened and gentled by years of exposure to humans, a cat does not lose its claws. A panther can and will strike and is fully capable of killing without hesitation. Even _domesticated_," he sneered, making the word into a curse, "cats are still lethal predators, far closer to their wild instincts than most. I could do worse than to be compared to a feline." 

"Only you could turn an insult into a compliment," she laughed. "All right, all right! You win -- you're deadly and dangerous and people should tremble in fear at the mere sight of you." 

"Exactly." 

Despite herself, Alex shivered at the dark satisfaction that ran through the AI's voice. She trusted Karr completely, knew he'd kill himself before he'd allow harm to come to her, but contrary to her previous teasing, she really did know just how dangerous the dark AI truly was. 

"Still no luck contacting Vin?" she finally asked, bringing the banter to an end and their minds back onto the business at hand. She patted the steering wheel in thanks, appreciative of Karr's efforts to distract her. He really was a big softie, she thought, smiling, but had the intelligence not to say aloud. 

"Mr. Tanner, while a capable ally and formidable opponent, is notoriously irresponsible with anything more sophisticated than his rifle. Assuming he even has his cell phone with him, it may not even be in working condition -- let alone charged." 

They'd tried his home number for the first few hours, getting the answering machine each time. As it was far too dangerous to actually leave a message someone might easily trace, Karr had switched to trying the ATF agent's cell phone. So far, they hadn't had any more luck. Getting a hold of him through the ATF Main Office was completely out of the question.

Alex sighed. "I just hope he's not out on a case. If we can't reach him…"

"I have already checked the mainframe database of the Denver Federal Building. His team is listed as having just completed their last assignment. Government agencies are not remotely efficient. If nothing else, they should have the weekend free to fill out the excessive amounts of paperwork required, in triplicate, by the ATF bureaucracy. No, what concerns me most is, Tanner may have decided to choose this weekend to return to his home in the wild."

"Karr!" Alex scolded, her stern tone belied by the reluctant smile she couldn't quite suppress, "I'm sure he isn't that bad! You make him sound like some kind of uncivilized barbarian."

Karr's silent response was pointed in its smugness.

With an entirely unladylike snort, the geologist reached out and slapped the steering wheel. "Oh, you're just biased because between you and Kitt, there's nothing more sophisticated in existence." 

Karr rumbled softy, but didn't argue. Inside the darkness of his CPU, the AI gently brushed a tendril over the block barring him from his brother, Kitt. The strong mental shield was a match to the one keeping him from his partner, Nick. Neither was so impenetrable as to induce separation sickness, but he knew better than to try pushing through them. They were necessary, though he hated them. 

For the first time in ages, Karr was alone inside his own mind. 

*******

In Denver's shadow, the sprawling ranch house was anything but empty. Or, for that matter, all that quiet… 

"Shit, Ez! I dang near thought Torero was gonna strangle ya with yer own silk tie!" 

Ezra's gold tooth flashed. "My dear Mr. Tanner, I can't possibly begin to speculate why Mr. Torero should have been so incensed by my penitent offer for the regrettable damages he incurred during your excellently timed intervention." 

Vin snorted, almost choking on his beer as he laughed. "Coulda been 'cause ya jist put a letter opener through his thigh, pard. Reckon that'd make anyone a mite pissed." 

The immaculate undercover agent looked insulted. "Surely not!" He exclaimed. "I would believe the two bullets you put through his expensive European-imported stain glass window were far more influential on his disposition than the mere scratch I delivered in fully justified self-defense." 

"Coulda just let him and his boys beat ya, I suppose. That woulda saved both his window and my bullets." The sharpshooter mused. 

"Hell, no!" Chris Larabee growled, leaning forward in his chair to glare at the pair with a malicious glint in his green eyes. "If anyone gets to pound either of you sorry sonuvabitches into the ground, it's gonna be me! I deserve it after the hassle you two caused." He shook his head. "Just once I'd like to be able to finish a case without having to go up before a board of inquisition. Can't you boys do anything quietly?" 

On the other side of the coffee table, Ezra Standish lounged in a plush leather recliner while Vin Tanner slouched in the wooden rocker he'd all but claimed as his. The unparalleled ATF team's undercover agent and sharpshooter looked at each other for a long moment, smiled identical mischievous grins, and in silent consort threw two handfuls of popcorn at their smirking boss. 

Six of the ATF's most hard and dangerous men looked at the fiercest, meanest and deadliest SAC in the federal government… and laughed with the free abandon of little children. 

Now covered in fluffy yellow confection, Team Seven's infamous leader casually reached into his blonde hair and plucked a single piece of popcorn free. Glancing at it briefly, the man dressed all in black shrugged and tossed it in his mouth. 

With laughter, alcohol, and food flowing freely, the seven worn members of the ATF's most effective team settled happily into the comfort of a weekend off. They'd struggled hard for the past several months to bring down an arms dealer with a penchant for violence. Ezra had used his exceptional acting skills to ingratiate himself deep into Carlos Torero's organization, while his teammates built the case from the outside. It had all culminated in a short but deadly battle just that morning when Torero, sensing betrayal among his ranks, had turned on the undercover agent. Even all the smooth Southern charm of Mr. 'Edward Stummings' hadn't been enough to allay the arms dealer's anger. 

For the team members watching and waiting from a surveillance van down the street, Torero's unexpected reaction had instilled fear for their vulnerable teammate. The arms dealer had, without warning, ordered two of his hulking goons to grab the undercover agent. Chris and the boys acting as back-up had been just as surprised as the Southerner. 

Deciding to hold off for the moment, trusting the smooth-talking Standish to talk himself out of danger, they'd all been shocked when Torero had suddenly lunged forward and driven his brass-knuckle encased fist straight into Ezra's unprotected gut. The force of the blow had doubled the agent, causing him to sag in his captor's grips. But rather than support his weight, they had just let him drop. That laziness had been their undoing, for racked by pain or not, Ezra Standish was a cunning survivor. He'd used the opportunity to slip a sharp steel letter-opener up his sleeve, concealing it carefully as he was hauled to his feet. 

Watching from an opposing rooftop, Vin Tanner had smiled at the ingenuity of the resourceful fashion-plate. The smile grew as he watched Torero's lunge for Ezra's face be stopped mid-motion. The arms dealer had fallen backwards with an audible cry to show the improvised weapon still quivering in his thigh where the threatened agent had plunged it. 

It had taken only minutes to end the confrontation thereafter. With their boss down, the two brainless goons had reacted as they'd been trained. They drew their guns and aimed at the traitor's skull. Ezra had remained calm and collected, not the least bit intimidated as he coolly informed them of their arrest. Too stupid to know better, the brutes had sneered and tightened their fingers on the triggers. 

Neither one got a shot off. With two quick pops and the shattering of rainbow-colored glass, both bodyguards had collapsed to the floor. Standish, flicking small shards of glass from his three thousand-dollar suit, smirked and tipped an imaginary hat towards the distant sharpshooter. Then, the insufferable Southerner had turned to the stunned Torero and, with honest regret in his wide jade eyes, offered his apologies for the desecrated antique window. The arms dealer had been so overcome with rage it had taken the three heftiest members of Team Seven to subdue him. 

Larabee hadn't been too pleased either, for that matter. Vin's eyes twinkled in remembrance. 

"Why you haven't been killed yet is a mystery to me," said Nathan Jackson, bringing the sharpshooter's thoughts back to the present. The medic's dark eyes swept over him and the Southerner at his side, then down to the floor to include the youngest of their number in his assessment. Vin fought not to squirm under that steely gaze, one which intimidated him far more than Larabee's famous Green Glare. Chris Larabee would merely shoot you if The Glare failed, Jackson carried a big needle and wasn't afraid to use it. 

"None of you uses the brains God gave ya. I can't keep patching ya up forever," the medic continued. Everyone knew to what he was referring. The high-frequency injury-rate of the threesome was legendary. All of the team seemed to get hurt more often than any other law enforcement officers, but the Seven's three youngest members excelled at it. There was a running bet on who would total up with the most injuries by year's end -- Vin Tanner, Ezra Standish, or JD Dunne. 

Nathan had money on all three. 

"The good Lord watches over fools and children, Brother Jackson." Sanchez boomed, his voice deeper than normal with good-humor and fine liquor. 

Buck laughed, reaching out to tousle the shaggy head of his roommate as the kid sat on the floor by his feet. "Heck, Josiah, these boys are both!" 

JD slapped at Wilmington's hand, his youthful countenance marred by a scowl almost as fierce as Chris Larabee's. "Knock it off, Buck. Save the pettin' for one of your lady friends," he advised scathingly, sparking a round of laughter. 

The jovial lady's man laughed harder, joyously ignoring Ezra's affronted glare and Vin's narrowed eyes. 

"You jist wait, Bucklin, you'll get yers," Tanner promised darkly, sending the others into fresh chuckles as Buck unconsciously fingered his beloved mustache. The dark hairs were only just beginning to fill out from the wily Texan's last act of retribution. 

"Whatever you do, Vin," the youngest added, still scowling at his unrepentant big 'brother', "I wanna help." 

The Team's resident prankster nodded, knowing without asking that Ezra would also willingly offer his assistance. The three of them, often picked on by their older and larger teammates, had banded together many a time to pull off some truly ingenious pranks. Vin's creativity, Ezra's deviousness, and JD's technical skills had proven to be a killer combination. Together, they could accomplish almost anything -- in fact, they'd pulled off some tricks so good no one could prove they were responsible. 

"Oh, great!" Nathan threw his hands in the air. "Now I don't just gotta worry about you getting hurt on the streets, I gotta worry about what y'all are gonna do to yourselves at the office too!" 

"Not us, Mr. Jackson. We will be exceedingly meticulous in our stratagem. Mr. Wilmington, however… well, I daresay, anything can happen. Nothing too permanent, one should hope." Ezra added ominously, directing a sly look at his perspective victim. 

Vin nodded, backing his strategist. "Yup. We wouldn't do nothing too bad, you know that, Nate. It's all in good fun, right boys? Only Buck'll need to be watching his back. We'll be right careful, won't we, JD?" he prompted. 

The technical expert nodded enthusiastically, a practiced look of innocence dancing on his youthful face. 

"Yeah, right." Chris sighed, already resigned to having his bullpen turned into a kindergarten playground. "Some days, I'm more convinced than ever that I'm not running a team of highly qualified federal agents, but a group of delinquent children!"

"So what does that make you, Stud?" Buck asked, grinning. "The principal?" 

"Nah, that'd be AD Travis." Vin corrected, his lips twitching. "Chris is just the Hall Monitor." 

"Larabee, you dog! Tellin' on the other kids!" 

As the others tsked in mock outrage, the aforementioned 'hall monitor' scowled and reached for his weapon. Glaring, he whipped the throw pillow as hard as he could at the smirking 'delinquents'. "That's it! Everybody's got detention!" 

Laughing, the day's tension drained out of the overworked group. The seven men, more relaxed than they'd been in weeks, loudly settled down to watch the football game that had served as the pretense to drag their tired asses out to Chris's remote ranch. Most, if not all of them, would end up staying the night simply because they were too exhausted to drive home. No one really cared. They were together and, for the moment, safe. In their world, that was all they needed to make them happy. 

As half-time came around, the men began to move around for the first time in hours. Most of them zipped off to fight for the bathrooms, or to replenish their drinks and snacks. Chris stood, stretched his spine, and went outside to lean against the porch railing. Breathing in the cool evening air, he briefly considered lighting a cheroot then dismissed the thought almost as soon as it appeared. He tipped his head back, studying the darkening sky that would soon glimmer with a blanket of stars. 

Though there was no sound, Larabee knew the instant Tanner stepped out to join him. Silently, the two men leaned side by side looking up at the endless frontier of blue dotted only by a few fluffy white clouds. They said nothing, words meaningless between them at moments like these when they were just two friends instead of boss and subordinate. 

The moment was soon broken by a quick but loud ruckus from the stables. Both men smiled as they heard Pony's angry nicker, followed almost immediately by Chaucer's whinny of pain. Ezra's purebred quarterhorse was a beautiful animal who normally had impeccable manners, just like his rider. But if he got bored, heaven help anyone or anything near him, because the sleek chestnut would pester them to hell and back just to amuse himself. Unfortunately, it was usually another one of the Seven's horses who bore the brunt of the intelligent chestnut's boredom. It depended on the other horse whether Chaucer would get away with it. 

Chris's big black, inexplicably named Pony, wasn't likely to let anyone get away with anything. 

"Least it's not Peso kickin' up a storm, Cowboy." Vin offered generously. 

Chris snorted. "Give 'im time, Vin. That mule of yours will be in the middle of any action before long. I just hope he doesn't decide to team up with Chaucer again. Pony still ain't forgiven me for last time." 

Vin grinned, watching as the tough blonde ATF leader rubbed his backside in remembrance. "Ain't Peso's fault you can't stay in the saddle, pard." 

"The hell it isn't! My horse only bucked liked that 'cause your devil-spawned mount bit him in the ass!" 

"It was an accident! Ez' and Chaucer bumped into us, Peso was just trying to keep his footing." Vin defended, the amusement he felt at the memory showing only in his eyes. 

Larabee scowled. "And what? His teeth just _happened_ to sink into Pony's rump? And don't try to tell me Chaucer tripped into you guys by 'accident' either! I wouldn't be surprised if Standish and his damned fool horse hadn't set that up together." 

"You accusin' Ez' of conspirin' against ya with his _horse_? Dang, Larabee, you gotta get out more. Paranoia's startin' to set in..." 

Chris growled, swiping at the giggling man. He smiled even as Vin ducked, glad to see his usually contained friend acting so carefree, even if it was at his dignity's expense. 

"Gettin' old, pard. Paranoia, failin' memory, slowed reflexes... Tsk, tsk. It's a shame." 

Larabee narrowed his eyes, squinting at the damnable Texan, and prepared to lunge at the slightly smaller man. A series of very distinct sounds coming from the barn halted his action mid-motion, and he smirked triumphantly at Vin as Tanner scowled with resignation. 

They both paused to listen, hearing Pony's snorts and Chaucer's whickers interspersed frequently with Peso's neighs of vindictive pleasure as the gelding made a nuisance of himself. 

"Ah, shut up, Larabee." 

Chris smiled, raising an innocent eyebrow as if to say 'who? me?'. "Didn't say a thing, pard." 

Chuckling, Vin and Chris left the horses to work it out themselves and headed back inside. Vin paused by his coat to riffle through his pockets. If he remembered right, he had half a chocolate bar left over. He found it stuffed in with his cell phone. 

He pulled both out, separated the half-melted chocolate from the plastic case of the cell, and was just about to put the phone back when he noticed he'd left it turned off. Guiltily, sneaking a quick glance around him to make sure Chris hadn't seen, he thumbed the power on. He was just putting it back when he jumped, startled by its sudden ringing. 

Vin grimaced, beginning to wish he'd left it off even if it would have gotten him in trouble. His friends all watched, unashamedly waiting for him to answer his insistently ringing phone. He glared at them, getting only blank looks in return. Sighing, he reluctantly answered it. 

"Tanner." 

"Vin?" The voice was female, but not one he recognized. Vin frowned, but responded in the affirmative. 

"It's Alex Christopher; Nick MacKenzie's lover?" she prompted. "Karr and I are on our way to Denver. We need your help. Nick has been kidnapped." 

The words were so unexpected, it took him a moment for the full import to sink in. When it did, Tanner snapped to full attention. The look in his eyes became hard. Old habits flared instinctively, and he turned his back on his teammates to step outside. 

This was not a conversation meant for an audience. 

In the quiet of privacy, he could easily hear the strain in the woman's voice. He remembered Dr. Alexandra Christopher, or Lexi as he'd taken to calling her at their first and only meeting. He'd been impressed with her strength, not just physically (though she handled herself admirably in the wilderness) but emotionally. It took a formidable woman to love a man as difficult as the mysterious character that was Nicholas MacKenzie, and Lexi had done it for over seven years. 

Then the rest of her statement clued in. Nick? Kidnapped? How the hell could that be? Nicholas MacKenzie was no ordinary man. For one thing, the espionage expert prided himself on his ability to go unnoticed; to be a Ghost drifting silently through the world, thought of as no more than a figment of the imagination if he was thought of at all. Those who were prey would not even know of his existence. Only another predator would even consider his possible presence. But, like Vin himself, Nick's early years in that dark world of predators had established him with a reputation as a dangerous man few dared challenge. These days, with his AI partner always watching his back, Vin knew Nick was almost indomitable. But now Alex was telling him that not only was she on her way, but so was Karr. 

Which meant, that wherever the elusive Ghost had been taken, he was on his own. 

The normally taciturn Texan closed his eyes and let loose an impressive, if colorful string of curses. 

"I'll second that," Alex muttered. 

Vin blushed when he realized she heard him. "'Scuse ma language, Lexi," he said, "ain't right to cuss in front of a lady. But it outta figure that anything involving the boy a yers gets me to ferget ma manners." He shook his head ruefully. "Ya said you were on your way? How long you reckon it'll take you to get here? Where are you exactly?" 

"I don't know… Wait, Karr says we're about a half-hour out. He's taking the back roads so he can make up the time." 

By speeding, Vin knew. And knowing the limits of the AI, probably at dangerously fast speeds at that. The law enforcement officer in him wondered if he should be upset by it, but the rest of him didn't care. Desperate times; desperate measures. Tanner knew that all too well. 

"Good," he nodded. "What about you, girl? You weren't with MacKenzie, were ya? Ya didn't get hurt none?" 

"… not seriously." 

The pause before Alex responded was enough to sound Vin's mental alarms. He frowned. "_How_ seriously," he asked pointedly. 

Alex sighed. "I have a small tear in my side. It's already bandaged." 

Which could mean anything from a paper cut to being all but split in two. Vin rolled his eyes. Woman had been hanging around MacKenzie too damn long. He considered the alternatives. 

"Okay," he finally decided. "I'm with my team at my boss's place. It's a ranch in the foothills. Ain't nobody else around or miles. Why don't ya come out here?" 

"Your team? In the ATF?" 

Vin wasn't surprised she knew. "Yup. One of 'em's a medic." 

"Fine. What about Nick?" 

"Now, Lexi, don't be frettin' none. Ya know I'll do whatever I gotta t' get Nick back. 'At's why you done come'd to me," Vin assured. "I'm sure he's fine, girl. Boy knows how ta take care of himself. You know that." 

"Doesn't mean I don't worry," Alex snapped. 

Tanner huffed a laugh. What'd MacKenzie ever do to deserve a woman like her? Lucky boy. 

"Tell ya what… You get out here and get your wound taken care of, and I'll find 'im and drag his sorry ass back to ya fer a good reamin'. Right, see ya then." He passed on directions before hanging up, then turned to reenter the house. Larabee and the boys would be waiting on an explanation for why he'd walked out on them. 

And he wondered why he sometimes felt like Daniel braving the lion's den? Huh. Can't imagine. 

He found his teammates right where he expected to and had to shake his head at their predictability. But he couldn't deny to himself the warm feeling he got from their obvious display of interest in his life. 

Didn't mean he had to make it easy on them though. 

"So?" Buck asked for the group. 

Vin shrugged, unwilling to get into it right then and not sure where to start if he did. 

"Got a friend needs some help. Alex'll be here in 'bout twenty minutes," he said instead. "She's been a bit hurt," he added, looking to the large black medic on his right. He was gratified when Nathan Jackson didn't hesitate and went to get the well-stocked first-aid kit from Chris's bathroom. 

Vin's eyes closed for a heartbeat as he gathered his composure, but all too soon he was back in control. His stance straightened from a weary slouch to a hunter's readiness, and his breathing slowed and deepened as his muscles reflexively tightened and relaxed. He went from a tired federal agent unwinding from a tough case, to some wild and dangerous predator barely restrained in old worn jeans and a ripped plaid shirt. 

The transformation confused and worried his teammates even more, because they knew what it meant. The six men had seen just how dangerous Vin Tanner, expert tracker and professional sharpshooter, really was when he cast off the thin veneer of civilization he wore like a cloak. The tension level in the room rose. 

A black-clad blonde stepped forward, his entire body tensed for as yet unknown action. Chris Larabee, the only man mean enough and crazy enough to take on the task of commanding the pack of mule-stubborn rebels he'd brought together into a team. 

"What's up?" He asked, ready and willing to do whatever it took to protect his friend. 

Vin appreciated that expression of trust, but had no intention of calling on it if he could avoid it. Friend or not, Larabee was an honorable man and a dedicated law enforcement officer. He probably wouldn't agree with Vin's way of handling this situation, however it turned out -- but if Nicholas MacKenzie was involved, then Vin knew whatever it was could never become official. 

"Ain't sure, Cowboy." He said softly, staring unseeing at the cell phone in his hand. "But I intend to find out." 

"Trouble?" Larabee persisted, alarmed by the usually rock-steady sharpshooter's demeanor. 

"Maybe. Probably." Vin answered absently, distracted by his thoughts. His voice dropped to a whisper, his feelings partially vocalized by the sigh that followed. "When ain't it?" 

"Vin?" 

He shook his head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. "Nothin'." 

"Stubborn mule." 

A grin briefly broke over the closemouthed Texan's lips at the surly mutter, but it fell again, dying before it could take hold. 

Larabee noticed, but said nothing. 

The others, observing the exchange, chose a different response. Putting to use their impressive combined skills, they set about trying to interrogate the sharpshooter. He put them off by the simple expedient of ignoring their questions, freely exercising the stubbornness Larabee had just accused him of. Grumbling, disappointed at their failure to crack the tough Texan, his teammates eventually accepted the inevitable and gave up. They settled back down to continue watching the rest of the football game, with considerably less interest than before. No one spoke. 

Vin, oblivious, sat quietly in his rocking chair. Thinking. Waiting. 

For the gates of Hell to open up and swallow him whole. 

Again. 

*******


	3. Predators and Prey: Part Two

PART TWO:

Hearing the distinct sound of Karr's turbo engine, Vin stepped out onto the front porch to see the sleek black Stealth tear up the drive and swing to a stop at his feet. While his friends stared in bemusement at the custom vehicle's sudden entrance, Tanner ran around to the driver's side to help the injured woman up out of the vehicle. 

Dr. Alexandra Christopher was noticeably paler than normal, her complexion blanched beneath the natural tan of an active outdoorswoman. Vin wrapped his arm around her waist for support as she stepped from the low sports car and felt her flinch. The car door slid shut as soon as she was clear, giving the wounded passenger a solid surface to rest against. 

"Alex? How bad…?" Vin asked softly, gesturing to the side she was favoring. 

"Uhn… just -- give me a minute… please." 

The woman took a deep breath, wincing as her wound pulled. Tanner reached out to help her, but she waved him off as the pain receded to manageable levels. Eventually, she pushed off from Karr to stand before the sharpshooter, not unaware of his watchful gaze assessing her every move. 

She smiled wanly. "God! Am I ever glad to see you, Tex! You would not believe the week I've had!" 

Vin merely raised an eyebrow. 

Alex must have caught the sentiment, for she ruefully amended her previous statement in acknowledgment. "Well," she allowed, "maybe _you_ can…." 

Tanner grinned wolfishly. "Cain't be any worse than some a the weeks I've had, Lexi. Why don't you tell me all about it and we'll compare battle scars?" 

Alex rolled her eyes at him, then tried to roll her shoulders to shake out some of the lingering tension from the long drive. She swayed slightly as a wave of dizziness struck, but Tanner was there to stabilize her with a hand on her elbow. 

"I think the explanations can wait fer a bit." Vin decided as she fought to regain her balance. "Let's get you looked after first, 'kay? Good -- Nathan!" He was already calling for the team medic even before he registered her nod of assent. 

Both Nathan Jackson and Buck Wilmington came forward, the affable lady's man smiling charmingly at the pale woman as he slipped her arm over his shoulders to take some of her weight. The healer gave her a reassuring glance as he knelt to inspect her wound, tsking at the sight of fresh blood. 

With Alex in goods hands, Tanner ignored his teammates inquiries and turned his attention to the imperceptibly rumbling Stealth. It had been a while since he'd seen the AI housed within the magnificent black sports car, but seeing as the only times he ever came in contact with he and his partner was under the most trying of circumstances, he knew what signs to look for to judge the sentient computer's state of mind. 

He was seeing some of them now. The car shivered slightly in the warm weather, hinting at a confusing air of barely leashed impatience and uncomfortable reticence. No sound was heard from the Stealth, not even the normal car sounds of a running automobile. A cloud of unnatural silence seemed to have surrounded the vehicle, and Vin frowned in realization. Karr's fluctuating temper, erratic and dangerous even at the best of times, was balanced on the knife's edge between the computer's rational logic and the soul's painful rage. All together, the effect seemed to make Karr radiate a darkness far deeper than the midnight black of his indestructible MBS coating. That the normally controlled AI's emotions were so obviously barely held in check was a major concern for the ex-bounty-hunter. He, as well as any, knew how potentially hazardous that loss of control could be. 

"Uh, Vin? Pard? You wanna explain what this is all about?" Larabee asked calmly, his soft voice belying the growing frustration visible in his eyes. Something more was happening than the leader was picking up, and that bothered him. Larabee may not know what he was missing, but Vin didn't need to see his glare to know he wasn't gonna like it when he found out. 

He and the boys had watched the unusual meeting between their teammate and the strange woman curiously, hearing the words spoken but not fully grasping their meaning. On some level, Tanner knew he'd have to explain at some point, but for now he was grateful for their ignorance. The truth was so strange, they'd never be able to guess it. 

And knowing would change everything. 

"Vin?" 

Tanner didn't so much as twitch to show he'd heard his boss. He kept his sight locked on the vehicle before him, unconcerned with the trivial detail of Larabee's imminent blow up. Impatient at the best of times, Team Seven's volatile leader had little restraint when it came to the safety of his men, and even less when his best friend was in danger. His reactions were a given to one who knew him as well as Vin did, and thus of no immediate consequence. 

Karr, dark and silent, was his current worry. It was safer to ignore the rattler coiling at his back than to ignore the panther crouched before him. The rattler would hiss, but it would never strike -- not at him at least. About the panther, Vin couldn't be so sure. 

"What the hell is going on?!" Chris demanded as Vin knew he would, the blonde's voice the low hiss of a pissed-off rattler. "Who is the woman? What happened to her? And why did she come here? Damnit, Tanner, what kind of trouble are you into now?" 

Tanner's blue eyes glanced at his leader and friend, caught the fierce green glare directed at him and as usual, dismissed it with a shrug. Even at its scariest, that glare had never bothered the unflappable Texan. Instead of answering Chris, he looked down at the gleaming black sports car, squinting his eyes a little as the bright setting sun reflected off the flawless paintwork. 

His silence was a question, and was answered just as silently. Under the ATF agent's watchful gaze, the Stealth's virtually unnoticeable trembling gradually ceased until Karr became a still dark shadow that melded into the growing night. Quiet and calm on the outside, the advanced Artificial Intelligence gave no evidence to the turmoil that likely frothed and boiled behind strong shields in its mind. 

Satisfied that the AI wouldn't be tearing off on a killing streak any time soon, Vin turned and headed back into the house without another thought. 

*******

In the den, Vin found Alex lying down on the couch with Nathan bent over her clucking his tongue. Buck sat on the armrest beside her head, talking softly to her as he held her hand gently between his much larger two. The dark-haired forest ranger was almost unnaturally still as she watched the medic treat her torn and bloody flesh. No sound escaped past her tightly clamped lips but her bruising grip on Buck's fingers betrayed the pain the Texan knew she must be feeling. 

The tracker ghosted up to stand at the back of the sofa, silently watching Nathan work. Chris, equally silent, stepped up beside him and dropped a hand to his shoulder. The fancily dressed undercover agent, Ezra Standish, came up to stand vigil at his teammate's other side. The young computer expert, JD Dunne, went to stand at Buck's side while the team's giant profiler, Josiah Sanchez, took up a position at the foot of the sofa. Flanked by his own silent honor-guard and surrounded by teammates, Vin was deeply grateful for his friends' loyal support. 

Whatever else happened, he knew they'd be there to help him however they could. It was a feeling he'd never known before, but had grown to depend on. He appreciated it more than he could ever say that he still had it now. 

Eventually, Jackson sat back as he finished wrapping the wound he'd gently been cleaning, stitching, and dressing. He smiled at the weary woman and patted her thigh as he climbed to his feet. 

"Well, ya got lucky. The slash was deep, but not jagged. And you kept the wound clean, even if you couldn't completely stop the bleeding. Don't think it's infected, but ya never really know. I'll give you some widespread antibiotics, which'll hopefully cut that possibility off before it develops. I also had to give you a few stitches to hold the edges together, so that's gonna restrict your movements for awhile." 

He must have seen the glint that appeared in his patient's eye, because the large African American man frowned sternly down at her. Vin had to consciously check his own reaction to that frown, so often had it been directed at him. 

"Not that you outta be going anywhere or doing anything for a good long while anyway," Nathan continued. "You might have only been bleeding a trickle, but you still lost too much blood. Should have gone to a hospital right away with that gash -- knife wounds like that can get infected real easy if ya ain't careful." 

"Knife wounds!" Chris hissed, surprised only because he'd half-way been expecting Nathan to announce it was a gun shot wound. Damnit, what the hell had that dang fool Texan gotten into this time? But he put aside his confusion, frustration, and worry to deal with later. No matter his personal feelings, he was still an officer of the law, and he fell back on his training. Before he was consciously aware of it, he'd assumed his leadership role and begun snapping orders at his men. "Shit. All right, Ezra, get on the phone to the Denver PD and have 'em send somebody to meet us at Mercy. Josiah, go start up one of the cars, we'll take her to the ER ourselves. Nate, can you get her ready to go? Vin, you can give me a report--" 

"No." 

"--on the way to the hospit--" he froze, the sharply stated objection finally registering. He turned to look at his sharpshooter, the "what did you say?" falling dully from his lips as his eyes widened in surprise. 

"I said, no. As in we ain't doin' nothing and we ain't goin' nowheres. And don't look at me like that, Larabee! I ain't crazy. Just… just trust me. Please. I know what I'm doin'." 

Blue eyes blazing with the need to be obeyed, Tanner looked every inch the fierce warrior and capable leader Larabee had known him to be when he appointed him second-in-command of the unit. Chris had always known he could trust the street-smart Texan to look after the Team should anything happen to him, he'd just never expected Vin to override him when he was still capable of giving the orders. Larabee watched him carefully, wondering what was really going on. 

Responding to the silent scrutiny with a seriousness that he never gave verbal commands, Tanner directed his next statements to the green eyes searing him to his soul. "No hospitals, no cops. Can't chance 'em. This ain't none of their business." 

The green eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'none of their business'?" 

The blue eyes never wavered. "I mean they don't need to know. I mean they wouldn't even know what to do if'n they did know. I mean they got no call gettin' involved in this. Ain't nobody callin' nobody, Larabee. This stays between us." 

Larabee stared at his agent, gleaning more from his eyes than he ever would from the taciturn Texan's words. Vin never faltered, staring steadily back at him with firm conviction. Chris took that into account, combined it with what he knew of the man he called friend, and came to an abrupt decision. 

"Standish, put down the phone." 

As the undercover agent complied, the scowling EMT opened his mouth to argue. Tanner, standing down from the near confrontation with his boss and best friend, leaned forward and caught his eye. 

"Sorry, Nate, no hospital. Ya done all ya could, that'll be good enough. Alex is a tough ol' bird, she'll be okay." His gaze dropped down, warm concern and a bit of his usual good humor coming back into their blue depths as he looked down at the woman on the cushions. "Won't ya, Lexi?" 

Alex, through her pain, still managed to match his smile as she looked up at him from her prone position. "Who you calling 'old', boy?" she shot back. 

Vin winked at her, then all traces of lightness abruptly fled his expression. Recognizing the change in his demeanor, and knowing well what it meant from her similar experiences with Nicholas MacKenzie, Alex struggled up into a sitting position. 

"Two days ago," she began, "I planned to meet Nick at a remote camping spot for a romantic getaway. With Michael and Kitt overseas, Nick and Karr decided to take a vacation and asked me along." Wistfulness rang in her tone as she talked, remembering the joy she'd felt at the all too rare opportunity for time alone with her long-term lover. 

~~~~~

Alex arrived to find an empty campsite. Confused and a bit apprehensive, the biologist was nevertheless not all that concerned as she climbed out of her car to look around. She reasoned Nick had gone somewhere with his partner, Karr, as the black Stealth was also no where in sight. 

Shrugging, Alex figured she might as well make herself at home. If the boys were out joyriding, then there was nothing she could do about it. They'd get back whenever they felt like it. Putting her gear into the two-man tent Nick had erected at the edge of the campsite, Alex decided she might as well make dinner while she was waiting. Breathing in the fresh woodland air, humming contentedly, she was just beginning her preparations when she was grabbed from behind. 

Screaming in surprise, Alex twisted and kicked backwards at her captor. By chance, she managed to land a hard blow on the man's shin causing him to yelp as he dropped her. She fell back and spun to face him. Though she hadn't heard Karr's return, she was irrationally hoping to find her lover smirking back at her with whatever lesson he was trying to teach her this time. Instead, she found herself confronted with an angry heavyset man glaring at her. Alex, frightened but remembering her training, reacted by dropping into the fighter's crouch Nick had taught her. Being involved with a man like Nicholas MacKenzie had long since necessitated Alex learning a variety of self-defense techniques, though she didn't often get the chance to apply her skills. A fact for which she was exceedingly grateful, but which meant she wasn't as proficient as she'd like to be when facing such daunting odds. 

The thug snarled, pulled a knife, and lunged at her. She ducked, slipped nimbly under his arm as he passed her, and struck out at his now unprotected back. Staggering with the blow to his kidneys, the thug cried out and fell to his knees. Alex watched him warily, readying herself for a counterattack. She never saw the goon that came at her from the other direction. 

Pulled off her feet by the second attacker, Alex swore sharply at herself for dropping her guard. She struggled hard in his massive grip, but he held her securely. She kicked her feet, trying to strike him as she had the first thug, but he avoided her easily. Her hands clawed at his arms, her nails gouging bloody welts in his skin. Still, he clutched the feisty woman tightly, unmoved by her efforts to free herself. 

The first thug climbed to his feet, knife still gripped tightly in his curled fist. Smirking at her evilly, he darted forward and swept the blade harshly across her ribs. Alex shrieked with pain at the sudden fire in side, her foot reflexively ramming upwards. Too slow to react, the thug failed to dodge the unconscious response. Alex's steel-toed hiking boot landed hard in his groin. Howling, the thug clutched at his abused flesh and collapsed in on himself. 

His partner laughed at his misfortune, his grip on the captive woman loosening with his distraction. Hurting, but somehow hyperaware of her situation, Alex took advantage of the lack of attention and ripped herself free. She landed awkwardly on the ground, the impact jarring her wounded side. Slapping a hand to the bleeding injury, Alex scrambled back away from the threatening men. 

Then suddenly Karr was there. Engine screaming, the powerful black Stealth charged explosively into the campsite. The two burly goons had no time to react, the sleek sports car plowing hard into them. They barely managed not to get crushed under his tires as they leapt to the side. In seconds, both thugs were lying prone on the ground with the enraged AI growling over them. Shocked, they froze in fear. 

~~~~~

"I tied them up, then we went back out to the clearing where Nick had been taken. There was nothing there that was useful. They didn't leave anything behind, not even a sample of mud for Karr to run a chemical analysis on. Damnit, if it weren't for the flattened landscape, you'd never even have known something had happened." She shook her head, frustrated at their failure all over again. 

"Karr and I wound up wasting the last of the daylight trying to track the helicopter, but that proved to be virtually impossible." Alex continued, her voice reflecting the disappointment she'd felt then. "Eventually, we went back to the campsite and I packed everything up." 

Alex looked up at the sharpshooter, cautious hope glittering behind her dark eyes. "Karr said Nick told him to fetch you. That you'd help us, get him back. He was adamant we come here, so I just came along for the ride." 

Vin nodded thoughtfully, arching an eyebrow. "'Fetch'?" 

Alex grinned. "Well, maybe he didn't use that exact word -- but the intent was the same," she added. Then she grimaced as she shifted, re-igniting the pain along her ribs. 

"All right, that's enough." Nathan interjected, smoothly taking over now that it seemed the serious issue was coming to an -- at least temporary -- end. In moments, the dark man re-established his control, as commanding in his medically driven orders as Chris Larabee always was. "JD, get her a glass of water or juice to down these pain relievers -- she needs to replenish her fluids, anyway. Josiah, pass over that blanket. And you, Miss, lay back down b'fore you undo all my hard work." So saying, the big black man reached out to gently push her on her back. 

Alex tolerated the fussing and accepted her juice and pills, but she didn't relax. 

Vin said nothing, but continued watching her. There was more to the story than she'd told him so far, but he was willing to wait for her to tell it at her own pace. 

Alex swallowed first the antibiotic, then the pain reliever, washing both down with the orange juice forced upon her by a determined medic. As soon as she could, she returned to her narrative. "When we got back to the clearing, and before calling for the authorities to pick up the two thugs, we did ask them a few questions. Or, well, Karr did… It was easy enough for him to convince them it would be in their best interest to tell us everything they knew." 

Vin nodded, understanding completely. He'd seen the AI intimidate hardened killers into begging for mercy, he had no doubt the thugs would have squealed everything. 

Frowning, a faraway look in her eyes, Alex recounted the tale. "He tried everything he could, asked them over and over again. But they were just hired muscle. Not a brain cell between them. They'd been order to kidnap me and bring me to some military base in the mountains. They didn't even know who had issued the order, let alone why! Karr knew more than they did, because at least he knew General Nash was involved, but wh--" 

"Nash?!" 

Startled by the harsh gasp, Alex looked up into Vin wide blue eyes. She nodded slowly, reluctant to confirm the Texan's fears -- the same fears she knew her own lover suffered. "Yes, Vin, I'm sorry. It was Nash who took Nick; and why he asked for you." 

"'Cause y'all know I can deal with him where most can't." Tanner softly drawled, less a question than a statement. 

Alex nodded. "That's what we we're hoping. We came as fast as Karr could get us here." 

"What about the others?" he asked, meaning the other human-AI partnership Nick and Karr had taken under their wing. "I woulda thought they'd be Karr's first choice, no matter what the trouble." 

Alex smiled sadly. "They were, are. But Nick vetoed the idea, and for good reason. They wouldn't stand a chance against Nash. Nick knew that, and so do you." 

Yeah, Vin thought, he guessed he did. While Karr wasn't the type to ask for help, the aloof AI being more likely to suffer in silence than allow anyone near him, there were a few people he'd go to. First and foremost was his brother, a younger AI named Kitt. And with him came Kitt's driver, Michael Knight, the field operative for the Foundation for Law and Government. As the only other human and AI pair, who shared a neural link of their own, they were the only ones who could fully understand what the partners meant to each other. Without Kitt or Knight to call on, Alex herself would probably be Karr's first thought, even though he knew she didn't have the right training to be of much use. 

Which left only him, he supposed. Though he could hardly be called a friend to either man or AI, he was at least a fairly trusted ally. They'd turned to him before, Vin remembered. It had even been one such occasion which had introduced the bounty-hunter to the woman before him. Only that time, the victim had been a child Alex was close to and Nick had been one of the rescuers. Vin Tanner, the soft-spoken but absolutely deadly Hunter, had served as their tracker at Nick's behest. 

Karr hadn't seemed to like the wily Texan back then either, Vin remembered. It didn't seem likely he'd ask for his help now. 

And yet… here he was. 

Vin knew he'd do whatever he could to help. Knew he'd do whatever he had to. 

Knew that… the General wouldn't win. Not again. 

Not like he had six years ago -- when, despite his best efforts, Vin Tanner had still been known in some circles by the codename he'd fought so hard to bury. 

The Hunter. 

The ultimate predator, born and bred to hunt the hardest of prey. Created for the sole purpose of hunting other predators, Vin thought in disgust. The Hunter -- the predator of predators. 

Vin had been trained from childhood to track his targets through any conditions, and was renowned for his ability to kill. Though no one ever saw the person behind the name and lived to tell about it, the Hunter was a world-recognized assassin with a frightening reputation: if he could see it, he could kill it. 

And the General had created him. Somehow, the sharpshooter wasn't the least bit surprised to learn the bastard was still alive. 

The Devil was hard to kill, after all. 

Vin easily remembered the last time he had encountered the Devil-in-disguise, General Jackson Nash. Which was, perhaps not so coincidentally, during another rescue of Nicholas MacKenzie in a Colorado mountain range. 

Tanner, then a bounty hunter, had been tracking his prey through the wilderness of the Rocky Mountains. He'd followed the wanted murderer all the way up from Texas, becoming more and more determined as the son of a bitch left a trail of dead campers to taunt him along the way. 

~~~~~

He was catching up quickly, Vin reckoned, as his ornery beast of a horse crested yet another hill. The path they were following was a steep rocky trail that was probably not meant for any creature but the nimble mountain sheep and goats that made these hills their home. Neither Vin nor Peso could have cared less. The big black blaze-faced gelding traversed the rocky trail, sharp cliffs, and narrow ledges as easily as if he were strolling through a flat field of grass. The horse might have been the most vicious ill-tempered beast God had ever had the misfortune of creating, but he made up for it with grace and strength to rival any other horse on Earth. Vin Tanner, now no more than two days behind the killer, thanked his cantankerous mount even as he cursed him. 

At the top of the hill, the tracker climbed off his horse to survey the vista spread out below them. Dropping the reins, trusting the surly gelding not to wander too far in his ever-constant search for food, Tanner pulled out his sniper's rifle and laid belly-down at the cliff's edge. Peering through the rifle's powerful scope, he scanned the trees of the valley below him for signs of human passage. 

No sooner had he begun looking than the peaceful silence of the Colorado mountains was shattered by the sharp crack of gunfire. 

Peso snorted and half-reared in surprise, but the big black horse was well used to weapons thanks to his rider's profession. He immediately settled down and turned his head to watch as Vin scrambled up the rocks with the rifle slung across his shoulder. 

"C'mon, mule. 'At's prob'ly Kraus down there stinkin' up the woods now." 

Remounting, horse and hunter sped off towards the only sound disrupting nature's tranquility. 

Vin followed a barely visible trail in the direction the gunfire had come from for over two hours, knowing he would probably be too late by the time he got there. Pressing on, trusting his horse's instincts when his own failed him, Tanner did his best to close in on his prey's location. 

All too soon, horse and rider jerked with surprise at the sounds of angry human voices from over the next ridge. Uncertain of the situation, the cautious tracker dismounted to creep silently through the last few meters of thick forest. As he neared the clearing, the yelling gradually refined into three men's separate tones -- neither of which was Lucas Kraus, the wanted murderer. Confused, Vin stilled in a crouch behind a particularly leafy bush to properly assess the situation. 

It didn't take long. 

With one glance, Tanner knew he'd have to act. Curled in a ball, wrapped protectively around something that looked like nothing so much as a small black VCR, a bruised and bloody dark-haired man cursed in a strangely familiar voice. The wounded man was being kicked repeatedly by several shouting men. All were dressed in dark military camouflage uniforms. At least, Vin thought, they'd been kind enough to drop their guns out of reach while they engaged in their 'fun'. That would make things easier when Vin launched his own attack. 

What decided Tanner's choice to act was not so much the victim, as it was the tall older 'gentleman' standing off to the side with a pleasant smile on his face as he watched the proceedings. Despite the many years that had passed since last he'd seen the man, Vincent Michael Tanner could still recognize the Devil of his childhood. Involuntarily, a feral snarl hissed through his bared teeth as the bounty hunter observed the one man he hated more than any other standing less than 750 yards away from him. 

The General. 

True name: unknown. Most common alias: Jackson Nash. 

The Devil. 

The son of a bitch who'd made Vin Tanner the killer he was today. 

His blue eyes glinting with barely contained savagery, a growl rumbling deep in his throat, Tanner decided to live up to Nash's expectations of him one last time. 

If it was the last thing he ever did, Vin Tanner vowed to put a bullet through General Jackson Nash's brain. 

Decision made, it took no time for the bounty hunter to un-sling his rifle and line up his first shot. Nash was standing at an angle to the sharpshooter, and had partial coverage from the truck he leaned against talking with one of the soldiers, but the Devil's body was perfectly exposed from collar to chin. A difficult target for anyone else, that pale expanse of smooth skin was as clear as a bull's eye for the world's most deadly sniper. 

A gentle pull, a soft pop, and a bright red dot erupted right in the middle of General Jackson Nash's throat. 

But Vin had no time to revel in his success. As the General's body dropped out of sight, the soldiers abandoned their prisoner and lurched for their weapons. No foolish amateurs these, the professional mercenaries swept their guns into ready grips even as they dived for cover. Tanner managed to drop one with a well-placed bullet through the heart, but his next shot merely caught another soldier in the thigh as the man dashed behind a wall of storage crates. 

By now, the mercenaries had pinpointed the sniper's general location and had begun returning fire. Tanner ducked and elbow-walked on his belly to a new vantage point -- careful to keep as low to the ground as possible. When he popped up, he saw that the scene had changed somewhat. A few of the mercenaries were using the rapid fire of their compatriots to spread out across the clearing. The former Army Ranger easily recognized the standard, but still clever, strategy: spread out to surround the enemy while splitting his own targets as far apart as possible. 

Worse than all that, Vin noticed one soldier snatch up a radio along his dash. No doubt reinforcements would soon be descending on the impromptu battlefield. 

Tanner knew he had to end this now. He glanced again at the spot where the beaten man had been laying, but saw nothing but a few bloody splotches in the grass. Surveying the area, Vin was actually shocked to see the ragged figure sneaking through the trees as stealthily as possible for a man with one half-working eye, an inflamed knee, no doubt broken ribs, and more bruised than unbruised skin on his whole body. Even more astonishing, he was still carrying the small black box. 

Ironically, the sight made Vin grin. If nothing else, he could always appreciate a man's pure stubbornness. 

His gaze switching from the mercenaries positioning themselves throughout the field, to the wounded man stumbling through the woods not far from his own position, Tanner quickly decided the prisoner had the right of it. Gathering his rifle to his chest, the bounty hunter turned and swiftly made his own, infinitely more stealthy, way back to his horse. 

Peso was waiting for him right where he'd left the fractious beast, but rather than rush forward to his horse's side, Vin slowed cautiously and took a good look around. His horse may have been the most vicious critter on four legs, but the bounty hunter had worked with the animal for years and knew every ounce of the blaze-faced gelding's body language. Right now, Peso was aware of something Vin wasn't. 

Powerful muscles bunched tight under his coal black coat, Peso had his head thrown up to watch as many directions at once as possible. His nostrils flared with whatever strange scents he was picking up, while his ears continuously swiveled searching for some indistinct sound. Every few seconds, he stamped a hoof in irritation or anxiety or some combination of both. 

With any other horse, Vin might have thought all the gunfire and bloodshed of the battle so close by had spooked the skittish animal. With the intractably stubborn Peso though, Vin knew the animal's wary tension meant something far more dangerous. 

Someone else was there. 

Freezing where he stood, Vin's hawk-eyed gaze combed the woods around him for the intruder. Most likely it was the wounded prisoner, but there was no point taking chances. 

Sure enough, the battered form of a man limped out of the tree line toward the black gelding. Peso's attention shifted uneasily to the approaching human, but his animal instincts must have reassured him he was of no threat, because the horse's eyes and ears immediately went back to studying the terrain. 

Vin, who'd been in the process of relaxing, suddenly tensed again. 

Guess that wasn't the someone Peso was wary of. 

The prisoner was less than ten feet from the nervous horse when the big gelding suddenly nickered sharply and whirled sideways. Peso took two quick long-legged strides backwards, laid his ears back flat along his neck, shifted his center of gravity forward, and kicked out both hind legs with all his massive weight. Both Vin and the prisoner heard the pained cry from the copse of trees the hard hooves slashed so powerfully into. 

Ignoring the startled prisoner, Tanner dashed out of his hiding place and past his rearing horse to check the figure twitching in agony behind a bush. Jaw-dropping, the bounty hunter was shocked to find not one of the mercenaries as he'd expected, but Lucas Kraus, bail-jumping murderer, and the very man that had brought Vin Tanner into this mountain battlefield. 

"Shit!" The quiet curse was voiced explosively, if softly, by the overwhelmed Texan. Kraus was obviously down for good, his spine all but shattered where Peso's hooves had caught him. But with the mercenaries so close, and the wounded prisoner in need of a ride, there was no way Vin was gonna get the chance to collect his $300, 000 bounty now. 

Looking from his broken bounty, to the weary prisoner watching him with a surprisingly calm and lucid expression, Tanner sighed and bent down to draw his knife. While the bounty hunter really would have been more inclined to leave the bastard to die slowly and painfully in the dirt where he was, neither he nor the prisoner could take the chance of Kraus talking to the mercenaries who were surely on their way. Without so much as a blink, the Texan slipped the razor sharp edge of his hunting knife across the murderer's throat, granting a quick and painless death. 

Straightening up, Tanner turned to the other man and with a cold smile, waved the hand holding his rifle in indication of his impatient mount. The prisoner smiled back just as coldly through his bloody lip, but limped over to the now quiet gelding. Tanner joined him, and together they managed to haul themselves and their respective armloads up into the saddle. 

Turning Peso and spurring the horse into a fast gallop away from the scene, Vin Tanner reflected on the strange situation he'd managed to find himself drawn into. 

"So," he asked in a light tone, as if he and the stranger at his back were old friends out for a casual ride, instead of hunted men running for their lives, "what's in the box?" 

~~~~~


	4. Predators and Prey: Part Three

PART THREE:

Vin smiled unconsciously as he recalled that strange afternoon. The 'box' had turned out to be Karr -- or more specifically, the sentient AI's CPU. The mind and soul of one of the two most advanced computers in the world, housed in a small black case the size of a VCR. 

That excursion had re-united Vin Tanner with the man a boy he'd once known had become, and introduced him to the fantastic world of artificially intelligent life he'd had no idea existed outside of science fiction. He'd stayed in contact with Nicholas MacKenzie and his AI partner, Karr, periodically since then. He had learned of the neural link between man and machine, of the second team of FLAG operatives, and of Dr. Alex Christopher. 

Coming back to himself, Vin took a quick survey of the situation. Nash was still alive and was holding Nick in the Rocky Mountains, possibly even at the same base as last time though Vin doubted it. The General was far too smart to make such a monumental mistake. Alex was wounded, and Karr could only go so far into the mountains before even his 4X4 option was useless. And even though his teammates were keeping their questions to a minimum, Tanner knew Larabee and the boys wouldn't be put off for long. 

Shit, the Texan sighed, he hated it when his life got complicated. 

"Fine." Vin finally said, "you stay here with the boys, Lexi. They're armed, and they are some of the best agents around. You'll be safe with them." 

"And just where the hell do you think your going, Tanner?" a hard voice interjected. 

Casually, Vin raised his eyes to meet the green glare of his leader. He knew Larabee would have a problem with his plan, all of the boys would… but, frankly, Vin didn't care. There was no way they'd be able to handle what they'd be up against if they went with him, and Vin couldn't afford the distraction of having to look after them as well. It was better if they just stayed out of it. They had no idea of the kind of men Tanner would be dealing with. They had no idea what kind of man Vin Tanner would become to do the dealing. 

Vin looked at Chris calmly, silently daring the man in black to challenge his decision. 

The other five men held their breath as the non-verbal battle of wills went on. Vin Tanner was the only one of the Seven that could argue with the team's tough leader, and expect to survive the confrontation without getting shot. Though that didn't always stop the dapper Ezra Standish from trying his luck against his boss's legendary temper, in what the gambling-inclined undercover agent drolly considered the 'ultimate game of chance'. 

After an interminable moment, Chris nodded his acquiesce. Vin's tight expression relaxed, and he nodded back in grateful relief. 

The other five breathed again. The decision had been made. 

Vin suddenly thought of something he'd wondered, but had forgotten to ask. "Lexi," he called softly, looking at the woman while studiously ignoring the team's internal debate, "how did the General capture Nick?" 

Alex opened her mouth to answer, then froze. "I… I really don't know. I'm sorry, Vin. I didn't think about that. I've been so concerned over Nick having been taken and so focused on getting your help. It never occurred to me to ask Karr how the old bastard caught him." She shook her head ruefully, almost unable to believe her own naivete. 

"Don't worry about it, Lexi. Ya had other things on yer mind." 

Alex huffed, unimpressed. 

Vin tossed her an understanding smile, then without another word, he headed for the door. 

"Huh?" 

"Wha--?" 

"Vin?" 

"Mr. Tanner, is something remiss…? Mr. Tanner?" 

"Hey, where's he goin'?" 

Five confused agents watched their teammate stalk purposefully outside, their voices piling on top of one another as they all tried to question him at once. The sixth glowered silently. Alex simply struggled to her feet and followed the exiting tracker. 

The six men left standing in the room shared a bewildered glance and unanimously moved toward the door to find out what was going on. 

Vin approached the motionless Stealth carefully. While not really afraid of the impassive AI, the Texan did have a healthy respect for Karr's inherent deadliness. Though he would never understand all the technical elements behind the sentient computer's existence, Vin understood all too well the overwhelming desire to live that so strongly influenced Karr's actions. It was a drive he shared. 

Standing still before the smooth prow of the high-tech sports car, Vin patiently waited for the AI to acknowledge him. Alex limped up to them, but instead of standing beside him she dropped down to sit on the warm hood. If she'd had the strength, Tanner figured she'd hike herself up to lay against the windshield just like her lover would have. 

Though there was no outside evidence, Vin knew Karr was aware of their presence. Vin also knew the AI wouldn't talk until he'd assured himself that his partner's mate, and his temporary responsibility, was all right. The three sat quietly while the AI scanned not only Alex's wound, but her overall condition as well. 

"Karr," he drawled at last, "I need to know what happened." 

Behind him, Vin didn't need to look to see his friends' baffled expressions. He knew exactly how talking to a car would look to his teammates. They'd learn in a minute that not everything was as it seemed. 

"Ah, Mr. Tanner? Not that I mean to cast aspersions on your highly esteemed mental fitness, but I feel I must inquire as to what you believe you will accomplish interrogating an automobile? Even one so obviously superior as this fine example of vehicular craftsmanship?" 

"This superior automobile," a new voice intruded, its cold mechanical tone sending shivers down the listeners' backs, "is perfectly capable of responding if I so choose." 

Smirking, Vin gestured at the Stealth. "Ezra Standish, meet Karr -- an uppity AI with a personality that makes Peso look down right pleasant." 

Karr sneered nastily. "Do not compare me to your flea-bitten mongrel of an equine. I am one of the most advanced artificial intelligences ever created and am capable of hundreds of functions your pea-brained son of a mule couldn't even dream of." 

Vin merely raised an eyebrow at the insult to his horse. 

"An artificially intelligent life form? Like Data in _Star Trek_? Awesome!" JD enthused excitedly, bouncing closer, oblivious to the darker undercurrents. "I knew AI technology was making breakthroughs, but I didn't realize it had advanced this far. Are you self-aware? Or do you just have programmed responses? Who created you? When? How do…?" 

Buck stepped forward and slapped a hand across his roommate's mouth, cutting off the flow of excited questions midstream. "Goddamn boy! Breathe a little every now and then!" 

"Indeed, Mr. Dunne. While no doubt a very advanced technological machine, it is merely a particularly well-developed computer program and not truly capable of independent thought." Ezra commented, his finely cultured ego still smarting from the car's unexpected response. "Do not debase yourself by conversing with it on an anthropomorphic level." 

"And what makes you such a qualified judge of sentiency in alternative life forms?" Karr retorted sharply, in no mood to be civil. Or as civil as he ever was… 

Surprised by the hint of dangerous annoyance in the reply more so than the words, Ezra actually took a step backwards as his mouth snapped shut on his next verbal volley. 

"Hell, we ain't got time fer you two peacocks to ruffle each other's feathers." Vin snapped, his voice all the more threatening for its softness. "I gotta know how the General nabbed Nick. That boy ain't usually so easy to corner. I'm assuming it ain't like last time, since you're still in one piece?" 

"No. It was not a direct attack, but a masterfully orchestrated ambush. I failed to adequately analyze the situation. He was captured due to my error," Karr stated emotionlessly, ignoring Alex's instinctive rebuttal. "After establishing camp and with several hours to go until Dr. Christopher's expected arrival, Nick decided a drive around the forest perimeter might be 'nice'. We were returning when my scanners detected an unusual transmission…" 

~~~~~

Hell, Karr Nick thought, the words transmitting across the neural link to his partner not so much as language as emotions. Maybe I should have left you at home if all you're going to do is complain. 

I wish you would have Karr retorted snidely. Mud, decomposing vegetation, and other 'natural'… he added in disgust … detritus is getting caught under my axles. Not too mention the mess it is making of my molecular-bonded shell. 

As if a little dirt would hurt the impervious MBS. Nick laughed. Aww, poor thing. You want me to give you a bath? 

Karr grimaced, the icy black presence that was his soul seeming to shudder in his CPU. You have been spending far too much time with Knight. You're acquiring his ridiculous sense of humor. 

Maybe Nick returned. But if association with Michael is mellowing me, Kitt is having the same affect on you. 

And strangely, the idea sent a wave of indescribable emotion through both man and AI. A feeling almost like peace, though that was as much a foreign concept to both partners as anything. Tactically, they both shied away from exploring the feeling further. 

The Stealth bounced over an exposed tree root, jarring Nick and breaking the suddenly somber mood. 

And maybe if you learned how to holiday like a normal person in some nice four star hotel, I wouldn't have to get my tires dirty 'roughing' it through the wilderness. Surely the lovely Dr. Christopher would appreciate it as well. 

Nick, eyebrow raised in indignation, was about to respond to Karr's jeering when he felt the AI's attention suddenly shift. What is it? he thought, moving from relaxed to serious in a heartbeat 

I don't know Karr frowned, the Stealth's scanners ranging up to full power. Some kind of subsonic blast. 

Natural? 

Negative. Karr stated firmly. The frequency harmonic is too regulated for any known natural event. 

Pinpoint the point of origin, Nick ordered, slowing the Stealth enough to effect a tight U-turn in a spot where the trees temporarily widened along the dirt track they'd been following. They may have come for a vacation, but neither Nick nor Karr ever really relaxed enough to let down their guards. If there was anything in the forest that could provide a potential threat, they would soon know it. It paid to be prepared for any eventuality in their line of business. 

Karr triangulated the emission's source. 

Nick picked up on the coordinates through the link and immediately redirected the virtually indestructible car up a sidetrack in the right general direction. He was only able to travel another 50 meters before that path narrowed too much for the customized Stealth to pass easily. 

The signal source is located in a clearing 27.4 meters north-northeast. Karr supplied, carefully blocking the unease he felt at Nick leaving the protection of the Stealth. It was necessary. While the trees weren't so numerous Karr couldn't force his way through if he had to, to do so would require a lot of power and momentum and would be unavoidably noisy. 

Instead, the AI was left to wait and monitor his partner's progress both with his array of scanners and through the neural link that bound their minds and souls together. Though usually content with his fast, strong, and highly defended physical form, there were rare occasions when Karr was made all too aware of the limitations of his existence. Occasions when Nick was injured when he entered situations the car could not. Thankfully, those occasions were tempered by the knowledge that the Stealth's defenses had saved his human driver more often than not. 

Any people or equipment in that clearing, Karr? Nick asked, as he began weaving silently through the dense underbrush in the sparse woods. His area of expertise may have been data espionage, both of the electronic and the physical kind, but his early training had been exceedingly thorough. He was quite capable of accomplishing almost anything under almost any circumstances, though maybe not with the same level of skill as another. Ironically, he owed that training to his worst enemy, and was reluctantly thankful for it as he stealthily worked his way north. 

Moving like the invisible phantom he was claimed to be, Nicholas MacKenzie soon emerged at the clearing's edge. He approached cautiously, but steadily. Karr's scanners had not detected anything either mechanical or biological within the clearing, and Nick trusted his partner's readings. But something had produced the unusual sonic blast, and Nick didn't fancy being taken by surprise by whatever it was. 

When he was close enough to see, Nick scanned the clearing with his own hardened gaze. As expected, the area was empty of anything except the old half-rotted hunter's shack Karr had warned him of. If danger lurked, it had to be sheltered inside the meager protection afforded by the dilapidated building. Unfortunately, the only way to be certain was to look inside. The trick was not getting seen while doing it. Something that would be difficult given the rotting wood of the walls had left several cracks and holes big enough to see out of. Anything approaching, from either side, would be clearly visible to whoever waited within. 

Gauging his surroundings, Nick decided to chance it. It was probably nothing; the strange signal potentially caused by any number of plausible innocent scenarios. There was probably nothing there to find. Likely, it was just his and Karr's personal paranoia that was driving them to investigate. 

You're only paranoid if they're not out to get you Karr grunted, making Nick smile down the link, though his face remained as hard as always. 

Relying on years of training and experience, Nick slunk around to the front of the crumbling shack as covertly as possible. He stayed as low in the grass as he could get, moving carefully and quietly. There was no sign his presence had been detected, but that didn't really reassure him. Karr a silent spectator in his mind, Nick peered through a crevice into the darkened interior of the hunter's shack. 

He couldn't see much. The one room wooden building was all but stripped of furniture, passing hikers and campers making use of the ready firewood no doubt. Spider-webs hung from the rafters, the corners of the floor littered with the evidence of animals that had sought shelter. Dirt and dust covered everything. In the center of the floor, a small metal box flashed a bright red diode like a beacon. 

Curious, Nick took one last glance around. Assured he was alone, he eased open the decaying front door and cautiously approached the box. 

Guess we found the source of the blast he thought redundantly. 

Yes Karr returned. But who put it there? 

Good question, Nick thought, and why? Nervously, a feeling of deep unease trickling down his spine, he knelt to examine the object. 

The diode flashed from red to green. 

Nick shot to his feet, leaping back instinctively. What the…? 

Nick! Karr cried, as his scanners were suddenly flooded with the biorhythms of dozens of armed men surrounding the clearing. He shifted the Stealth into gear, engaged the four-wheel drive, and slammed forward down the path. Trees scraped at his MBS as he pushed and forced his way through the narrow track, but his progress was slow going. He had no choice but to watch helplessly as his driver was overwhelmed by numbers. 

Finally bursting through the last few trees barring his way, Karr shot into the clearing. He aimed for the nearest group of soldiers, intent on flattening them and evening up the odds for his driver to fight. 

"Karr!" Nick yelled suddenly, both mentally and out loud. "Stop!" 

Snarling, Karr nevertheless slammed to a halt. Through the link and on his scanners, he saw Nick on his knees with an armed mercenary guarding him from each side. Karr growled viciously over the sound of his gunning engine, but he didn't dare make a move on his enemies as long as they held his partner's life in their hands. 

They might have stayed that way for hours, locked in a deadly standoff. But the unnatural stillness of the tableau was suddenly shattered by an incongruous sound. From out of the shadows a figure stepped, his gnarled hands clapping together in a sharp mockery of applause. 

"Brava, brava!" the man mocked. "What stunning control you have over your killer little car, Nicholas. I'm impressed. Last time we met, your homicidal computer couldn't wait to run me down. I'm glad to see its finally learned patience." 

On his knees, a gun muzzle pressed into either side of his face, Nick couldn't turn his head enough to see the man. But then, he didn't need to see him to know who he was. The voice, more cold and inhuman than his or even Karr's could ever be, was just as he remembered it. 

His voice, in return, was filled with loathing when he breathed the man's name. "Nash." 

Anger and fear flooded through him, reverberating back and forth along the neural link with his partner, heightening his own feelings until he seethed with dark primal emotion. His muscles, coiled for action, trembled in fury at his forced helplessness. Nick knew he had to gain control over himself, and to do that he had to cut off his enraged partner's influence. Struggling harder, Nick fought his own emotions for the concentration needed to raise a mental shield. 

Observing his captive's reactions indifferently, the man continued unconcerned. Casting a dismissive look on the rumbling Stealth, Nash altered his timbre until he sounded like nothing so much as a disappointed father discussing a difficult child. "Of course, that's not entirely your fault, is it Nicholas? Programming is such a tricky thing. One can never guarantee that all their hard work won't go to waste if a nasty little bug should show up in the system, now can we?" 

Controlling his broiling fury, Nick snorted disdainfully. "A programme is only as good as its programmer. The bug wouldn't have had any effect if the programmer weren't incompetent. Or," Nick added, trying to drive the verbal arrow deeper, "perhaps the bug actually improves upon the original programming--" 

"And perhaps," Nash interrupted, taking a step forward with well leashed anger, "the hardware is so flawed even the best programming isn't enough to protect it from corruptive viruses. Then its useless!" And they both knew he wasn't talking about a computer anymore. 

Glaring fiercely at each other, former superior faced former subordinate. Former teacher faced former student. Former programmer faced former programmee. 

"You had such promise, Nicholas." Nash mused, still staring at his lost operative. "You were my finest creation. The most highly trained, the most versatile, the most dispassionate. You were everything my program was supposed to make you: the perfect soldier, unfettered by human emotion or concern." 

The elderly figure, no less commanding for his age, stalked closer to his kneeling captive. "But it was a lie, wasn't it Nicholas? Yes, you were flawed from the beginning, weren't you? And that disobedient little bitch just nurtured that flaw, didn't she?" 

Ignoring the calculated insult to the friend who'd helped him escape the General's twisted clutches, Nick focused on the other statement. "Four years ago, despite my hatred for you and your ways, I probably would have agreed with you over that. But after three yeas under the subtle tutelage of Michael Knight and Kitt, I've learned better." 

An ironic smile crossed his face as he remembered what he and Karr had talked about just before this whole bad mess began. "They taught me emotions aren't always a weakness--and both Karr and I have been good students. We're stronger now than we've ever been, Nash," he proclaimed, pride ringing in his voice. "Whatever it is you're planning, you will fail." 

For a moment, Nick thought he might have won this round of verbal jousting. He saw the General's face grow red with rage and knew he'd scored a direct hit. The best part was, every word he'd spoken was truth. He and Karr were better, stronger now. 

Nash would fail -- Nick himself would see to that. 

Taking a deep breath, General Jackson Nash swallowed his angry retort before it could escape his mouth. Narrowing his eyes, he suddenly realized that his former star pupil was trying to rile him up. Oddly, it pleased him; perhaps not all his hard work and training had gone to waste, after all. 

But it would not do to let the student surpass the master. 

Re-affecting his nonchalant tone, Nash pondered MacKenzie's last statement. "Ah, yes. Mr. Knight and his partner, the Knight Industries Two Thousand. I wonder how did he like my little gift? I never did hear back from him." 

A few months ago, Nash had sent Nick MacKenzie's full file, including a list of all his assassination targets, to Michael Knight via email. It was part of the conniving General's attempts to break Nick, by leading the honorable Knight to doubt the man he called friend. But Michael wasn't as easily led as Nash wished, and after discussing the damning file with a reluctant Nick, had put it behind him without so much as a blink. In fact, it had probably even strengthened their friendship, as Nick realized he no longer had to hide any aspect of his personality from his friend. He could just be, and Michael would always accept him. It was a heady feeling. 

Nick scoffed at Nash, unperturbed by the taunt. "That little file you sent him about my 'accomplishments'? He read it, asked me how much of it was true, then offered me Chinese for dinner. Food was good, too," he added, as if it were an after thought. 

Nash quietly seethed. MacKenzie may have been his masterpiece, but he was also insufferably impertinent. He glared at his former student. Nick glared back. 

Their argument was finally interrupted by the sound of quickly approaching helicopters reverberating through the forest canopy. 

Looking skyward, Nash smiled. "Well, Nicholas, it looks like we'll have plenty of time to continue this discussion -- in a more secure locale, of course." Turning to the hostile Stealth, he cocked his head. "It truly is a shame I didn't get a hold of you earlier, Karr. I could have molded you into the perfect killing machine." 

Engine growling, Karr hissed at the man who'd been the cause of such torment in his driver's life. "I don't need you to teach me how to kill, human. But I'd be glad to give you a demonstration of my abilities." 

Laughing, unconcerned at the threat, the General waved a negligent hand at one of the men guarding MacKenzie. Instantly, the man drew back and slammed the butt of his P-90 into his captive's skull. Nick collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. 

"Please tell Mr. Knight I'll be looking forward to his arrival." Nash said. "I have not forgotten that I owe him as well." 

Karr raged loudly as he was forced to do nothing as the minions hauled his dazed partner into one small helicopter, two of them watching Nick closely as the other's kept their eyes on the black Stealth. The other soldiers piled into the remaining aircraft. Karr, feeling helpless and hating it, snarled so hard the modified sports car's frame visibly shook. 

Furious, with them and with himself for not detecting their presence, Karr watched the helicopters lift off and disappear over the hills. He screamed and launched himself forward, slamming into the trees and flattening the smallest with the force of his impact. Undamaged and unappeased, the virtually indestructible Stealth reversed, spun a tight circle, and charged straight through the wooden structure in his new line of sight. 

Karr! Stop! Nick mentally implored. Karr, please! You have to calm down! This isn't helping me! 

Karr snarled, but brought the Stealth under control. Fat lot of help I've been! he raged derisively. I didn't even know they were there! 

Nash had them blocked from your scanners, Karr. It wasn't your fault, partner. 

I should have known! 

How? Nick asked reasonably, hoping to diffuse his partner's self-flagellation if not his anger. They were shielded. And if you forget, I didn't see them either. It was a well-orchestrated trap, Karr, and we fell for it. We both screwed up. 

And you're paying for it. Karr grumbled, calmer but still pissed off. 

Nick nodded, not disputing the fact. He was trapped with General Jackson Nash. He knew exactly what that meant. 

Yes he allowed. But there's nothing you can do about it. Besides, Alex is still out there somewhere. You've got to look after her, partner. I don't want anything to happen to her. 

That brought Karr up short. He'd almost forgotten their reason for being out in these godforsaken woods in the first place. Everything had changed in a matter of minutes. 

Let me help you Karr urged, as close to begging as he was comfortable with. 

Nick paused, wavering for a moment until his resolve hardened. He wanted Karr with him; holding him, shielding him. But he couldn't take the chance of Karr getting caught up in his pain. That was exactly what the General wanted. 

And no matter what, he would never let Nash win. 

No, Karr he said gently. I need you sane. If you're trapped with me in my head, Nash will only bring us down together. It's what he wants. I won't let him get it. The fierce words were accompanied by a protective wave of equally fierce affection. Nick reached across the link and twined a part of himself around his partner's essence, reaffirming the emotion. Karr slipped his own inky tendril around the cool blue presence, returning the brief mental hug. 

Go to Denver he ordered, pulling apart. Get Vin Tanner. He'll know what to do. 

Karr was surprised. The Hunter? Not Michael Knight? 

The blue presence shimmered as he frowned unhappily. No. It's not safe. Michael is good, yes. But he's nowhere near good enough to go up against whatever forces Nash has, especially in his own territory. Which was a shame, because aside from Karr himself and maybe Alex, there was no one else on Earth Nick trusted as much as he did Michael Knight. If Karr was his soulmate and Alex his love, then the other man could only be described as his best friend. And that was too new and too special a thing for Nick to risk losing. 

In the mountains, Michael would be on his own. His status as a FLAG operative would mean nothing to the men he would have to fight; his skills learned as a cop useless in the wilderness. And Kitt wouldn't be there to back him up. The Trans Am could follow no further than the Stealth. Without the protection of his own partner, Michael would be just as vulnerable as Nick was now. The thought was sobering. 

It was amazing how much he'd come to depend on the artificial intelligence that had once tried to kill him. 

Karr sensed the thought, and though a wave a shame passed through him at the remembrance of his own terrible deeds when the link had first activated, it was overshadowed by a feeling of warmth as he returned the compliment. Nick was a mortal human, but he was a part of the immortal AI as well. Karr did not ever want to contemplate living without him again. 

I know, partner Nick echoed. But we're going to have to for a while. 

What would that accomplish, but to leave you vulnerable to the General's not-so-tender mercy? 

Karr, Nick pressed. You know Nash; you know what he'll try to do. 

And the worst of it was, he did know. Through Nick, linked as deeply as they were, he'd seen his partner's memories as vividly as if they were his own. Same as Nick had his. Nick's nightmares were as much his; Nick's pain shared with his own. There were very few recesses left unexplored in their souls. And those that were, neither dared touch. 

What are you proposing? Karr finally relented, his tone controlled if grudging in its compliance. 

A temporary block. One strong enough to keep you from feeling my pain -- held just long enough to free me from Nash's grip. 

Karr frowned. That could take days. A block strong enough to hold for that length of time would take a great deal of energy and concentration to maintain. You would have neither. 

Nick smiled sadly. I know. 

Karr's f**r**own deepened, understanding what was being asked of him. It would take all of Nick's fortitude just to survive, there would be nothing left over to maintain a block. Yet if the mental shield failed at the wrong moment, there would be nothing to stop Karr from being swept up in Nick's agony. And as with the other times that had happened, the AI would lose control of the Stealth as he fell into the link. A fact which their enemies could all too easily use to their advantage. But if there was no block, the effect would be the same. 

There was only one choice. 

I'll do it. 

In the real world, the black Stealth sat silently rumbling in the deserted clearing. Likewise, its driver knelt passively on the floor of the helicopter ignoring the guns to his head, expression as hard as stone and just as unreadable, cold blue eyes staring sightlessly. Inside their minds, linked intimately soul-to-soul by matching neural implants, the partners were anything but still. Physically separated, they sought each other mentally. Cool blue and icy black presences surged toward the point of connection and in one flowing motion, wrapped as closely around each other as they could get without becoming one. 

Then, simultaneously, they retreated deep into their own minds. 

And the connection was sealed. 

~~~~~


	5. Predators and Prey: Part Four

PART FOUR:

In a secure underground parking garage in London, England, a sleek black Trans Am sat silently. Its driver was busy representing FLAG at the International Crime Prevention Conference. The Conference was being hosted by the Knight Foundation and all its associate worldwide non-profit organizations, including FLAG, the Foundation for Law and Government. Michael Knight, as the only acknowledged FLAG operative and driver of the multi-million dollar Knight Industries Two Thousand supercar, had been ordered by the Board of Directors to attend. He'd spent endless months since the original notice arguing with his friend and immediate superior, Devon Miles, but to no effect. Both he and his partner had resignedly boarded a plane and flown the long hours across the Atlantic Ocean. 

Now Michael roamed the floors of the hotel hosting the Conference, somehow managing to get seen by all the necessary delegates but avoid getting sucked into trivial chit-chat with any of the pompous attendees. Kitt, whose turn on display wouldn't come around until the next night, was completely bored out of his highly advanced computer mind. The only thing keeping him from going entirely mad was the sheer amusement he got out of his driver's discomfort. 

//Yeah, yeah.// Michael groused down the link. //Laugh it up, Pal. Your time will come.// 

Kitt laughed, grinning unashamedly as he sensed Michael's hasty dodge to avoid the pinching fingers of one excessively friendly old matron. The elderly woman, slightly tipsy on the expensive champagne and still managing to look regal in layers of jewelry, had been trying to seduce the handsome American ever since she'd first seen him. Her technique, however, had a tendency to leave bruises in delicate places if Michael wasn't fast enough to avoid her questing hands. 

//Good God, Kitt! She's worse than an octopus!// He complained, unobtrusively rubbing his aching backside. 

//Buck up, Michael.// Kitt admonished unsympathetically. //It's for a good cause. Besides, she's just one old woman. You've faced worse odds than this!// 

Michael scowled. //You're just saying that because no one can pinch you.// 

//Hey, now!// Kitt retorted, still chuckling. //I have to deal with everyone leaving fingerprints on the MBS finish and cooing at me like a baby. I think it's only fair you have to live with a few bruises.// The problem with being leagues ahead of most computer technology was that almost no one could accept an Artificial Intelligence as a sentient thinking, feeling life form. More often than not, those introduced to him either treated him like a particularly smart machine or a naïve small child. It could be extremely frustrating, but Kitt had learned to deal with it by just ignoring them. 

Leaving his partner to mingle with the high-class crowd of vultures, Kitt turned his attention to the link he shared with his brother, Karr. The older AI had raised a light block after informing Kitt that he and his driver, Nick, would be meeting Nick's lover, Alex, for a weekend getaway. While the brothers normally kept in close communication, sometimes one or the other needed temporary privacy, and a light block could provide that without being rude. Kitt usually didn't mind. If all else failed, they normally had access to the little-used broadband channel that connected the two cars. Unfortunately, the channel, unlike a neural link, did not work very well over distances and was all but useless from another continent. 

Now Kitt sat staring at the block Karr had erected in confusion. When he'd last checked it earlier that night, the block had been a simple mental shield designed to keep out only the most basic thoughts. Either Kitt or Karr could have easily broken it or leaked through it with little effort. Now, however, Kitt was confounded to find not a light shield but a thick solid wall preventing any crossing over the link. 

Coalescing his bright white soul into a tendril of energy, Kitt gently brushed over the block to check for weaknesses. There were none; the block was as solid as any Karr had ever built. Beginning to become alarmed, Kitt brushed over the block once more then rapped soundly against it. If Karr was listening on the other side, he hoped to get his attention and maybe get him to drop the block so he could find out why such a strong shield had been raised. 

There was no response. Not that Kitt really expected one, but it would have been nice. 

//Kitt? Partner, you okay?// Michael suddenly asked, sensing Kitt's confusion and growing distress. 

Busy studying the barrier once more, Kitt nodded slightly to reassure his partner. //Yes. It's just… Karr has erected a block so strong I can't get anything at all from our link, and he's not responding to my knocking. I don't know what's going on, but I'm beginning to get worried.// 

So was Michael. He knew as well as Kitt that the only reason Karr would block his younger brother so diligently was if something bad had happened to either he or Nick. But he didn't want to jump to conclusions -- both Nick and Karr were fully capable of taking care of themselves and had proven it on many occasions. Still, he frowned in concern. 

//What should we do, Michael?// Kitt wondered worriedly. 

//I don't know, Kitt.// he answered slowly, thinking through the possible implications of the block carefully //It's not like when we're at home. We can't just hit the road and ride to the rescue. We're on the other side of the world here, Kitt!// 

Kitt frowned but nodded. Michael was right, of course. Yet even knowing they couldn't really do much didn't alleviate his fear. Karr was his only brother, the only other sentient AI in existence; Kitt couldn't lose him. 

//All right, for now// he conceded. //But if I don't hear from him by tomorrow morning, I want to go back.// 

Michael sighed at the ultimatum, but didn't really disagree. //Okay, here's a compromise. How about I call Bonnie and ask her to stop by the warehouse? Maybe Nick or Karr left a note or something.// It was weak and he didn't really believe it himself, but it was the best he could do for the moment. 

Kitt agreed and left Michael to finish out his night's duty. Over the next few hours, Kitt idly dozed as he watched the walled-off link to his only brother, silently wishing it would dissolve into nothingness under his ardent gaze. 

*******

Night had fallen and the Larabee Ranch was quiet. Alex slept fitfully in the spare bedroom that was normally Vin's, the rest of the Seven sleeping throughout the sprawling ranch house wherever they were most comfortable. Vin had tried to convince them to go home after he'd gotten Alex settled, but his teammates had refused to leave him to face this alone. 

Smiling at their show of solidarity, Tanner padded softly out onto the front porch. Only once he was safely outside did he puts his boots on, then he wove through the various parked vehicles to get to the one that sat apart from the rest. 

"Karr," he whispered, in case the AI was actually getting the rest he needed. Not that Vin really expected him to. Even if Nick were here, the distrustful AI would never deliberately power down in unfamiliar surroundings. He would never leave himself that vulnerable. 

Karr, proving that he was awake and aware, silently opened his door in invitation. 

Vin gladly accepted the offered seat, plopping down into the warm interior. It was cold outside even in the summer at this elevation, and Vin had forgotten to put on his jacket. 

"You hear anythin' from Nick?" he asked. That was one thing they hadn't been able to discuss earlier. The neural link that bound man and machine was a secret to all but a few. Tanner respected that. As much as he may trust his teammates, it wasn't his secret to tell. He wouldn't ask Karr to reveal the truth unless there was no other choice. 

"No," the AI finally responded, voice tightly controlled. 

Perhaps a little too controlled, but Vin chose not to comment on it. 

"We cannot depend on the link for information, Mr. Tanner." Karr continued. "I am maintaining a block on Nick's orders, and I will continue to uphold it until I know for certain he is safe." 

Vin nodded. "Reckon that's pretty smart. What about this other team of FLAG's? They gonna be any help?" 

Karr frowned, glancing from the block shielding him from Nick to the one he'd erected blocking his other link to Kitt. Briefly, he debated dropping it and telling his brother what had happened, but he quickly dismissed the thought. Nick didn't want Michael going after him, and his brother and his driver were overseas anyway. Kitt and Knight were too far away to be of any immediate assistance, and Karr didn't want to worry his brother needlessly. The younger AI had had some harrowing experiences in the last few years, and though he'd recovered from the torture wrought on his soul by Jennifer Knight's tests, other moments of darkness had since left their mark on his light presence. Karr wanted to protect his brother as he hadn't been able to protect his partner. He would tell him after everything was over, one way or another. 

Tanner was still waiting patiently for a response. He'd managed to worm himself into a comfortable spot across the custom seats and was fighting to stay awake. Unexpectedly, Karr felt grateful for his presence. The Hunter would never be his partner, but the two shared a dark past that had shaped them into surprisingly similar men. 

Locking down, securing the Stealth for the night, Karr quietly answered the Texan's question then encouraged him to fall asleep. With the obstinate sniper snoring imperceptibly in his cabin, Karr finally allowed himself to rest and dropped into standby mode. 

*******

Morning came early to the foothills outside of Denver. Nestled at their base, the Larabee Ranch sprawled for nearly a mile in either direction. Smack dab in the center, butted up against one low hill for shelter from the high winds that blew through these rolling valleys, a whitewashed one-story house spread across the plain. Positioned kitty-corner to the extensive home and backing to a large grassy field, a big red barn sheltered the seven horses owned by the men of the ATF's leading team. 

Vin came awake with the first rays of sunlight, his internal clock waking him even though Karr had all the windows darkened to keep out the light. Tanner smiled and, greeting the AI good morning, stepped out of the low Stealth to stretch his cramped spine. 

Chris was just emerging from the ranch house, coming to perform his daily chores and feed the horses. He smiled at Vin, glancing curiously at the dark Stealth, then waited for the Texan to join him at the entrance to the stables. As was becoming their tradition whenever Vin stayed at the ranch, Tanner went to feed the horses and turn them out for their morning run as Chris set to the other chores. Working side by side, each was comfortable in the companionable silence. 

"Need a favor, Cowboy." Vin said softly, not turning to look at Chris as he stroked Peso's silky muzzle. He automatically watched to make sure the ornery beast didn't bite his fingers. 

Chris stopped what he was doing, twisting his head to look at the reticent Texan curiously. 

Shrugging, Vin explained. "Can't use a car in the mountains, even one like the Stealth. Gotta go on foot, or on horseback. Reckon I'd take Peso, make better time than I could on my own and he knows these hills almost as well as I do. But I's gonna need ta borrow your truck to get 'im out to a spot we can start off from." 

"Sure. I'll get the trailer hooked up. When are you planning on heading out?" 

"As soon as possible prob'ly be best. Don't know how long it's gonna take to get Nick back, and I don't want to leave him where he is any longer than necessary. Ain't no one deserves that." Vin's eyes darkened momentarily, then cleared as he continued outlining his plans. "But I gotta head into town first. Got some things I need to get. My rifle, some clothes, any other gear I might be needin'." He grinned ruefully. "Wasn't exactly fixin' on a rescue mission in the mountains when I agreed to come out here, Larabee." 

The blonde smiled back, but quickly grew serious again. 

"You gonna be okay, Vin?" he asked worriedly. 

As the team's sharpshooter, Tanner was often separated from the others during a bust; and while not as vulnerable as Standish, he was less protected than the others with no one to watch his back. Vin was normally the one watching their backs, but that didn't mean the other members of the team didn't worry about him being up on his own in the rafters or wherever he'd chosen to perch. Now he was talking about going out into something dangerous without even the illusion of support. Chris didn't like it, but he knew there was nothing he could say to make the stubborn Texan change his mind. 

"Yeah. If y'all take care of Alex for me, reckon I kin handle what I gotta do. Ain't the first time I fought alone, Chris. I remember how ta do it. But this ain't the same." He grinned at Larabee's confusion, knowing the confident man before him had never really known what it was like to be alone and grateful for it even as he envied it. Even when he'd lost his wife and child, Larabee hadn't been alone. Buck had stuck by him, refusing to abandon his friend no matter how awful the man in black behaved. Tanner had always appreciated Buck's steadfast loyalty to his friends. He didn't want to know what his life would have been like if he'd lost Chris before he'd ever met him. 

"How is it not the same? We aren't gonna be there to watch your back, pard." 

"No," Vin agreed mildly, "but you's gonna be here when I get back. Reckon that means a hell of a lot to me." 

Pleased, Chris reached out at the same time as Vin. Rather than shake hands as others might, their forearms slapped together in a tight clasp of brotherhood between warriors. They smiled at each other, nodded, then turned to head in for breakfast. 

With Alex safely occupied while Nathan fussed over her wound, Vin talked Karr into taking him to get the supplies he'd need. The AI was restless, worried about his partner but trying not to show it too obviously, but Tanner sensed Karr needed the chance to move. He was proven correct when the moment they hit the open road, the AI revved his powerful engine and the Stealth accelerated to a dizzying velocity. Vin had a moment of panic as he watched the speedometer rise, but relaxed as he realized Karr got a measure of relief out of the speed. 

Sitting back in the driver's seat, content to let Karr exercise his control over the Stealth, Vin watched the passing scenery zip by as he formed a mental list of all he would need. His sniper's rifle, of course. It was a weapon he knew well, one he preferred to use whenever he could. He knew every inch of it, could anticipate its degree of function in any situation, and never felt as comfortable as he did with it in his hands. He had had it longer than he cared to remember. But, it was a part of him he was loath to give up. 

Only it wasn't all he would need. He didn't know exactly what to expect, but a hard fight with Nash's men was almost guaranteed. He'd need more weapons than just his rifle. He'd also need some wilderness survival gear; especially if he expected to drag an injured MacKenzie back through the mountains to a pick-up point. 

Speaking of which, he's need something to notify Karr to pick them up that could be easily carried and concealed. His cell phone would be useless in the dead zones of the mountains, and the cloud cover would obstruct a satellite phone's signal. Traditional electronic communications equipment would be likewise restricted. The distances and difficulty of the terrain he'd have to cross would render them ineffective. No, he'd need something more versatile and robust. Something guaranteed to work and remain undetected. He couldn't take the chance of anyone else monitoring an insecure channel. But technology had never been his strong suit. He was at a loss about possible alternatives. 

Luckily, he was currently sitting in one of the most advanced technological developments ever made, so he knew just who to ask. 

"Eh, Karr? You know of anything I can use to contact you once I got Nick?" 

In response, a hidden compartment in Karr's vaguely futuristic dash snapped open. Inside it, Vin found a tiny speaker designed to fit out of sight inside the ear canal. It was similar to something he'd used in the Rangers, so he was already familiar with its basic use. Beside the miniature earpiece however, almost unnoticed by the sharp-eyed Texan, was a flat transparent square about a centimeter in width and length. Tanner had no idea what it was. 

Holding the square gingerly between his fingers, Vin quirked an eyebrow at the AI. 

"Peel the backing off and place it over your throat. There is a tiny microprocessor imbedded in the material. It will record the vibrations of your vocal cords as you speak and transmit them to me. I can translate the vibrational data into words." Karr explained. "However, you must enunciate carefully. I cannot translate your particular 'flavor' of English." 

Tanner, hardly offended, merely laughed. He was perfectly capable of speaking clearly when he concentrated, but otherwise his Texas drawl emerged and blurred his speech. He never noticed until someone looked at him strangely. But then, as far as he was concerned, it was the rest of the world that had an accent. 

"Great," he said, "now the only thing I need is a way to find Nick. Got a lot a territory to cover in them mountains. Be nice to be able to narrow it down some." 

Karr thought a moment, then suddenly realized. "The implant." 

"Huh?" 

"The neural implant is still emitting pulses. You should be able to track those." Of course, they would have to modify a transistor to detect the implant's signals. That was a simple enough procedure, but who would do it? Certainly not the technically-inept Vin Tanner. 

Said technically-inept sharpshooter was confused. "If ya got a block between you and Nick, how'd ya know the implant is still working?" 

"Because I haven't killed anyone yet." Karr answered, only half-kidding. "If the link were cut completely, both parties would soon fall into separation sickness. As I am not suffering the symptoms of a separation, the link must still be active." 

"Oh." 

Karr rolled his eyes. The Hunter may be a lethal assassin and a skilled federal agent, but he was even worse than Knight when it came to understanding computer technology. 

Less than fifteen minutes later they were pulling up before a dilapidated four story brick monstrosity built sometime in the last century, and looking so ancient and misused the slightest shove against one wall might push the whole thing over. Karr ran a quick scan of the building and felt a strong measure of relief. If this building was any indication, Tanner might just be successful in his mission. 

The Stealth stopped, nose inches from a set of huge bay doors that appeared to have rusted together. The AI watched as his passenger got out and approached a small section of the wall covered in the most graffiti. He was only mildly surprised when with the flick of a hidden switch the section peeled back to reveal a nine digit security panel. 

With the complex code punched in, the bay doors began to roll open on silent gears that belied their corroded appearance. Karr followed slowly as Tanner walked inside, the doors closing behind them just as silently as they'd opened. The inside of the warehouse looked to be just as run down as the outside, but Karr knew better. There was only a quiet moment of recognition as the Texan went to another control panel and entered another digital code, then stepped back to meet Karr in the center of the huge empty ground floor as the false walls on all sides rose up out of view. Shelves of gleaming pristine metal now surrounded the room, weapons of every make and description in an impressive display. A bank of computers, slightly out-of-date but by no means obsolete, lay quiescent in one corner. The monitor screens were dark, but Karr could sense the activity running through the coaxial lines as the mainframe performed whatever operation it had been programmed for -- most likely upholding the extensive security precautions. 

Karr relaxed unconsciously; it _almost_ felt like home. 

"I see you and my driver are more alike than I had previously been aware of, Mr. Tanner. This warehouse looks very similar to one he would use." 

"No kiddin'," Tanner smiled, spreading his arms in indication, "that's because it was Nick who built this fer me." 

"Excuse me?" 

Vin laughed at the stuttered sound of shock underlying the AI's toneless voice. Wasn't often a man got to one-up a computer. A grin slanted his lips as he looked around at the well-camouflaged high-tech base of operations the dilapidated warehouse contained. 

"Hell, Karr, I got a lot a skills, but electronics and stuff ain't one of 'em. MacKenzie helped me put all this together, installed his patented 'cammo' security network," he added with a smirk, "and set it all to run automatically so's I don't gotta do nothin' but remember a few passwords." 

"But those computers aren't more than a few months old, when could he have possibly done this?" And why didn't I know about it? Karr thought, but didn't say. 

Vin nodded distractedly, already busy perusing the shelves for his armaments of choice. "We set it up after I pulled yer asses outta the fire in that incident with Nash the first time. The Stealth was being rebuilt for ya, Nick was healin', and the boy got bored. So while his crew worked on you, Nick worked on this place for me." 

"That was six years ago!" Karr interjected, remembering the 'incident' with Nash all too well. The attack had been swift and thorough; the Stealth destroyed and human and CPU incapacitated. At the time, neither he nor Nick had even known who'd taken them captive. It wouldn't be until much later that Karr learned the identity of his enemy, not until that fateful day in San Diego over three years later. Nash had tried to destroy Nick again, but thanks to the timely intervention of Kitt and Knight had been unsuccessful. Karr hadn't begrudged his partner's silence in not telling him about Nash sooner. Through the neural link between them, he'd instinctively known just how painful any memories associated with the General were. 

He had his own dark secrets, too. 

"Yeah," Tanner was saying, oblivious to the AI's thoughts, "he arranged for one a his guys to come by twice a year to upgrade the security system, keep everything running proper-like. All I gotta do is maintain my guns and shit. And hell, that I kin do in ma sleep." 

Turning back to face the Stealth, his arms loaded with a variety of weapons while still more resided in the unassuming leather bag over his shoulder, Vin smiled as he held up his finds. 

"So, whaddya think?" 

Karr ran his scanners over the Texan, noting the seven knives sheathed about his person; the grenades, semtex, claymores and other explosives secreted to the backpack; and the array of automatics and sub-machine guns held in his arms. Hell, the man even had a short sword hanging down the middle of his back. He looked like he was preparing to overrun a small nation, not rescue one lone man from a base in the mountains. Karr said as much. 

"What? You think the sword is too much?" Vin teased. 

"I think with that many weapons, you're going to make so much noise when you move you're not going to get within a mile of Nash without everyone knowing you're coming. If you want to play Rambo, why not just skip the small arms fire and jump straight to the ABM?" 

Vin nodded thoughtfully, turning his head to look at the large antiballistic missile under discussion. Sitting up against one wall, it was almost as long as he was tall and just under a foot in diameter. "Nah," he considered, "it's a bit too big to tie ta Peso's saddle." 

"And what you're planning to bring isn't?" 

"Nope," Vin smirked and proceeded to drop most of the weapons until all he held were three of the smallest but most powerful handguns. The two Glocks were added to the leather bag, along with several cartridges of extra ammunition, while the silenced Luger was tucked away into the holster strapped to his thigh. The knives, explosives, and even the sword stayed. 

Karr heaved a sigh into his CPU. Humans, he thought, picked the strangest times to show a sense of humor. 

Eyes shining in anticipation, Vin walked over to one section of the far wall that appeared empty. Karr watched curiously, his scanners unable to penetrate the protective shielding, as the Hunter tapped a rhythm onto the center plate. Within seconds, the lead-lined titanium door swung open to reveal a hidden safe. Within it rested Vin Tanner's most prized possession. 

Artfully arranged against a blue velvet backdrop, the hand-crafted personalized sniper's rifle with matching duopod and scope lay like a sleeping serpent. Vin reached out and gently ran his fingertips alone the sleek lines of the one-of-a-kind weapon, tracing the snakeskin-like camouflage pattern painted onto the unique surface. The rifle, created to suit his lethal needs, had been fashioned out of an extremely rare but very durable non-metal alloy. Not only was the material invisible to metal detectors, but it was lighter than any standard gun matter as well. The rifle's unique construction also ensured anonymity because it had been designed specifically not to score its bullets with the identifiable firing patterns typical of most guns. With it, not only was the Hunter an untraceable predator, but the light strength of the weapon meant his legendary accuracy was heightened to the extreme upper limits of his ability. 

With it, he truly was _the_ best sharpshooter on Earth. 

Reverently, Vin picked up his rifle as if it were a delicate feather, even though he knew it was probably tougher than he was. Automatically, he went through the procedure of checking it thoroughly. He broke it down into pieces, cleaned its already spotless accoutrements, then reassembled the lethal hardware in minutes. He lined it up against his shoulder, smiling happily at the feel of the precious weapon as it settled naturally into position. It felt perfect. 

Without turning around, without even taking his eyes off the rifle in his arms, Vin tossed his next words over his shoulder to the waiting Stealth. 

"You mind sitting put for a few, Karr? I wanna make sure my sight is zeroed." 

"How long will you be?" 

"Not long. Got my own private shooting range downstairs in the basement. I try to get out at least once a week to practice, so ma baby's likely in perfect condition. I'll just be an hour or so," he added, disappearing down the stairs without waiting for an answer. 

Karr watched him go, then decided he might as well run a few self-diagnostics as long as he was waiting in such a secure environment. 

*******

By the time they returned to the Ranch, the morning was almost over. As he pulled up in Karr, Vin saw that his friends had not been idle while he was gone. Chris had hooked his two-horse trailer to his huge black Dodge Ram, and Peso stood tethered beside it. JD came running up to him as he stepped out of the low-riding Stealth. 

"Here, Vin!" the youth called, brandishing a small black device in his hands. "I got it modified to just the specifications you wanted, wasn't any trouble at all." Handing the gadget to his friend, Team Seven's technical expert smiled expectantly. 

Not having a clue what the kid was talking about, Tanner stood holding the foreign object like it would explode in his face if he weren't careful. Suspicious, he turned and looked at the vehicle at his side. 

"I forwarded the modification guidelines to Mr. Dunne while you were assembling your gear." Karr supplied innocently. It had not been difficult to discover whom to ask to complete the alterations on the transistor to detect the signals of Nick's implant. A quick check of the biographies of Tanner's teammates had revealed only the youngest agent possessed the required skills. In fact, Karr was marginally impressed by the youth's abilities. In a different field, they would make him a valuable informant for his driver. The only surprise had been that Dunne actually had the necessary equipment with him. Why he carried the obscure EMI amplifier, Karr couldn't have cared less. 

"Uh… okay, that's good I guess." Vin bluffed, still lost. "But, uh, how does it work, JD?" 

Taking back the device, Dunne expertly manipulated a few of the simple controls. A blinking arrow-shaped cursor appeared on the inlaid screen. Pointing, JD explained as he demonstrated each function. "The FET, field-effect transistor, works like a wireless Geiger-counter for electromagnetic radiation. It detects the faint electromagnetic impulses of electronic equipment, then the transistor amplifies the impulse. Per the specifications, I've added a satellite-driven feedback link to extend its range and a GPS hook up to correlate its position. Oh, and I was also able to adjust the frequency of the transistor so that it will only detect the minute EM pulses of a microchip using the code you gave me." 

Having understood only about a tenth of JD's technical explanation, Vin nevertheless grasped the fact that the device could locate Nick by his implant, then all he would have to do was follow the arrow. Sounded simple enough. 

Pocketing the FET and heeding JD's warning about its limited range of only a few miles despite the technical expert's best fiddling, Vin loaded his gear and contrary horse before turning to say goodbye to his friends. Alex crossed to him, the wound in her side not hampering her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and dropped a kiss of gratitude on his cheek. The natural scientist smiled at his blush as she stepped back, then went over to sit out of the way with Karr as Tanner's teammates came up for their turn. 

One by one, each of them shook hands, slapped, or punched the sharpshooter on the arm. Each gave last minute advice, warned him to watch his back, then sternly admonished him to come back safe. Vin grinned at their mothering, but promised to behave when they threatened to handcuff him to his bed if he wound up in the hospital. 

Lastly, Vin stood eye-to-eye with his boss and best friend. Neither he nor Chris said anything, standing there for a long moment, then all at once their arms snapped together in tight clasp of forearms. A small smile gracing his lips, the Texan nodded at nothing in particular, climbed in the truck, and drove off. 

*******

At an altitude of almost 60, 000 feet above the great blue expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, Michael sat with a nervous Kitt in the cargo hold of the Foundation's private plane. They'd arranged to fly home as soon as Bonnie had reported no sign of either Nick's or Karr's presence anywhere in Los Angeles, and Karr had still not responded to Kitt's frequent probes on the link. The sun had not even risen over the European horizon before the pair were loaded and in the air. 

//Only another hour, Kitt, and we'll be in back in the States.// Michael reassured. 

Not the least bit appeased, Kitt glowered at his human driver. //Yes, but then we've got to fly across the country for at least another six hours.// he added irritably. 

Sighing, all Michael could do was wrap his warm amber presence around his partner's twitchy white light as he sent a wave of comfort across the link. Kitt's fear of flying made him apprehensive at the best of times, but with his brother out of contact and in who knew what danger, the young AI was all but beside himself with anxiety. 

It was gonna be a long trip home. 

*******


	6. Predators and Prey: Part Five

PART FIVE: 

Karr, alone now physically as well as mentally, absently navigated the steep winding roads cut through the Rockies. He'd followed the Texan to the drop off point, recording the coordinates as the primary pick-up location for when the Hunter returned with his driver. An alternate location, should anything go wrong, had already been determined on the other side of one sharp rocky peak. Karr hoped it would not be needed, for it was hidden amongst the rocky slopes and over an hour's drive away even at the Stealth's top speed. If something went wrong and Tanner and MacKenzie were forced to take that route, they would have to add almost another full day's time to their travel. And with Nick's likely injuries, the extra time without medical aid might kill him as surely as Nash would have, even if Tanner succeeded in rescuing him. 

But Karr cut that thought off before it had even fully formed in his logic matrix. The option of failure was no option at all. Nick had requested Tanner's assistance because the ex-spy knew that only one trained as he could hope to infiltrate the General's headquarters. The Hunter, skilled tracker and expert sniper, was one of only a few people on earth capable of accomplishing that task -- and the only one the secretive freelance operative now dared trust with his life. 

Karr had no choice but to put his faith in the ATF agent's hands, but even after several encounters in which Tanner's unique skills had been vital to the success of a mission, Karr didn't really trust him. It had taken years before Karr had even trusted his driver enough to work with him, let alone gotten to the point they were at now. 

Trust did not come easily to a sentient artificial intelligence that had been created to serve, only to be betrayed by his creators and dismantled to suffer an interminable punishment in darkness. Karr had never forgiven Wilton Knight for the order to shut him down; for the order that relegated him to a hellish existence within his own tiny CPU without so much as a single outside stimulus. They'd created the KARR, the Knight Automated Roving Robot, programmed him for self-preservation, then repeatedly attacked him. Was it any wonder he'd rebelled and fought back? But the Foundation hadn't seen it that way, all they'd seen was their precious machine becoming a danger to them -- and they'd shut him down without hesitation. They hadn't cared that he was sentient, that he could feel when they hurt him with their tests. They hadn't cared when they deactivated him. 

But they'd learned from their mistakes, or so everyone thought. The Knight Industries Two Thousand had been created, programmed to protect human life above all, and they'd treated him like a child. KITT had been nurtured as he grew into his sentiency, allowed to grow as a person with his human driver from the very beginning. He'd been given every opportunity Karr had been denied. Cherished, even as the failed KARR prototype was forgotten. 

It had made him furious, when events had conspired to free him and he'd learned what had happened during the years he'd spent stewing in that silent lonely darkness, dreading each nanosecond that passed. Betrayed, rejected and finally replaced, KARR had reacted in the only way he'd known -- he'd tried to destroy that which threatened his existence. In the end, he'd failed at that as well. Once more, he was deactivated with no concern for his welfare. 

Nick had saved him then. Rebuilt him in a new body, given him access to the world once more. And KARR, unwilling to trust a human ever again, had scorned and attacked him at every turn. But they'd prevailed, and he'd evolved past that vicious machine to become the Karr he wished to be. It had only taken the realization that his continued survival was tied through the neural implant to that of the human's to motivate the evolution. His primary programming expanded to include MacKenzie, and thus he began his new life. But he never forgot a single hellish moment from his previous life. And he never would; an AI could not forget. 

It had been remembered pain and unexpected empathy that had driven him to begin opening himself up to his brother when Kitt had been tortured by Wilton's ruthless daughter, Jennifer Knight. The trauma of that betrayal had threatened to drown the naïve and innocent young AI in pain and horror, feelings Karr had sympathized with. All his self-defenses had crumbled under Kitt's need, his protective instincts extending from beyond himself and his driver to incorporate the wounded AI. For the first time since their creation, neither AI was unique anymore. They became true brothers, united in pain; and gradually, in love. It was only recently, in the last few months, that Karr had fully accepted Kitt's own driver and partner into the small collection of beings he felt safe putting his trust in. 

Reflecting on that, Karr wondered if it wasn't perhaps time to exercise that trust. Glancing at the thick barrier blocking his link to his brother, Karr hesitated, then swiftly dropped the shield. 

_Karr! Kitt instantly squealed, his glowing white presence dashing through the open link to wrap tightly around his older brother in mingled relief and joy. 

Karr smiled, just as pleased as the younger AI, if more restrained in his expression of it. _Hello, Kitt. 

Kitt pulled back, but kept a tendril twined about the older AI's cool darkness. He could feel his brother's turbulent emotions, muted as they were by Karr's self-control. _Karr? he questioned gently, _why did you cut me off? 

Karr was silent for a moment, then Kitt heard him sigh. _Nick was kidnapped. 

_What?! By who? Is he okay? Where are you? Michael and I will be there as quickly as we can, then we'll get him back. God, Karr, why didn't you tell us sooner… 

_Because there's nothing you or Knight can do! Karr interjected, snarling in frustration. _There's not even anything I can do! Damnit, Kitt, you were the first ones we thought of when that bastard caught Nick. But you wouldn't be enough! Nash saw to that. 

Kitt gasped. _Nash? As in General Jackson Nash? 

_Who else? Karr snorted. _You didn't honestly expect him to simply go away after his failed attempt to split up our drivers, did you? The General isn't the type. He thinks he owns Nick, just because he created him. Maybe we should have introduced him to Jennifer Knight -- the two had a lot in common! 

Inside his own CPU, flying high above the country, Kitt shivered at his brother's bitter tone. Kitt had always known how the dark AI had felt toward the woman responsible for torturing him, but he hadn't quite realized just how unsatisfied Karr was by his lost opportunity to kill her. Jennifer Knight was beyond his reach now, dead after an explosion that brought a building crashing down on her. And Nash, who had survived decades as a hunted man, wasn't stupid enough to even give Karr an opportunity. 

_What can we do? Kitt finally asked. 

_Right before I lost contact with Nick, he ordered me to Denver. There's a man here Nick felt stood a chance of rescuing him. Dr. Christopher and I came immediately… 

_Alex! That's right, you were supposed to be meeting her. Is she okay? 

_She's safe, Kitt. Karr immediately assured, knowing his brother's primary programming heightened his concern for any human in danger. Besides, Kitt was rather fond of the intelligent woman who'd managed to somewhat tame Nicholas MacKenzie. For that matter, so was Karr. _She's staying with Tanner's teammates while he goes after Nick. 

Kitt frowned. _Tanner? 

_Yes, Vin Tanner. He's an ATF agent based here in Denver. A sharpshooter. He's worked with Nick before. 

Kitt nodded at that, knowing it meant Tanner was about as trustworthy as any of the freelance FLAG operative's allies. Nick may be ruthless in who he employed in his network of informants, including everything from professional hackers to professional criminals, but he put all potential allies through vigorous scrutiny before engaging in any activity with them. Still, unless it was Michael Knight himself, MacKenzie would never turn his back on them. 

_Okay, Michael is speaking with the pilot now. With the change in heading, it should be approximately 1.47 hours before we land at the Denver International Airport. 

Karr nodded. _Understood. Our temporary base of operations is a secluded ranch owned by one of Tanner's teammates, 43.19 miles from the city. 

Karr transmitted the directions leading to Larabee's Ranch, then just sat there. It had only been a few days since Nick had been abducted, only a few days since Karr had shut himself off from his partner and brother, but feeling Kitt's bright presence next to his own touched him now deeper than he expected. After the last few years of enjoying a deep connection to his human driver and AI brother, it felt like he'd been isolated from them forever -- as alone as the long lonely years before he'd met them. He didn't want to feel that again, not so soon. 

Karr was torn. He didn't like needing others. It was a weakness he was reluctant to allow himself, but no matter how hard he wanted to, he couldn't deny its existence. Unfortunately, Karr thought, grimacing, it didn't mean he had to give in and ask. 

Kitt, still closely entwined, caught the tail edge of his brother's thoughts and understood. He gazed fondly upon the icy black presence. _Karr, he called softly. _It's okay… 

Retreated back into his own CPU, he left Karr to his thoughts, the link open and thrumming between them. 

*******

"This sure sounded easier when JD was explainin' it," Vin complained to his horse. 

Peso snorted. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," Vin agreed, turning the black box around and around in his hands. 

The little inlaid screen stayed blank, no arrow to be seen. 

Vin puffed his own snort. "Well, I reckon we ain't gonna find nothing standin' around here. If'n I'm rememberin' right, the General's old base was southwest a here. Might as well head thataway -- it's as good a direction as any." 

Not in the mood to argue, the black gelding just smacked his lips and heeded to the subtle pressure on the bit in his mouth and along his ribs. Vin quirked an eyebrow, surprised but pleased. At least one thing was cooperating on this hell-spawned mission. 

Speaking of hell… "I really ain't looking forward to seeing the Devil again, Peso. I thought I'd dealt with him six years ago -- can't believe MacKenzie never told me the bastard was still alive. Ain't like he ain't had ample opportunity, you know?" 

Peso was less than sympathetic. 

Vin scowled. "Some friend you are," he muttered, and got an especially jerky trot-step in response. 

Chuckling, Tanner surveyed his surroundings. Despite the seriousness of his purpose for being here, he felt himself relax ever so subtly as the unconscious tension he always carried in the city wore off. He never failed to feel more comfortable in the wild, no matter how many years he'd lived in urban jungles. These hills in particular, familiar as they were, comforted the tracker even under the worst conditions. He'd ridden them so many times, explored every nook and cranny. He could navigate them blindfolded and still get where he was going. He knew how they should be, when everything was as it ought to be, and could usually spot what didn't belong. 

But that was no help to him now. There was no sign of either Nash or Nick anywhere nearby. He didn't really expect there to be. All he could do was pick a direction and hope he also picked up a signal from Nick's implant. That could take time, Vin knew. There were a lot of places to hide in the mountains, and this particular range was a big one. 

Thankfully, it wasn't as big as it seemed. With the rise in the tourist industry, plenty of hard to reach spots had been converted into great get-away camping destinations. Protected areas hailed all over the vast forests. Rangers regularly patrolled much of the territory on the look out for dangerous predators both animal and human. A truly experienced predator, the General would be wise enough to avoid the populated areas -- and thus avoid accidental discovery. 

No, Vin reasoned, Nash would set up his base in some completely isolated and highly defendable hollow. The location he'd used six years ago had been ideal. Nestled at the base of a ravine, treacherous rocky hills surrounded three sides of the hidden glen of dense woods. A small grassy clearing in the centre sheltered the pre-fab buildings that could be assembled and disassembled in minutes by trained personnel. Tall, leafy deciduous trees circled the modest clearing, large enough to land a pair of helicopters side by side if their pilots were careful. Throw a couple of camouflage nets over the treetops and the base would be all but invisible from above. 

"Hell," Vin mused, "maybe I'll get lucky and the bastard will use the same damn spot." 

*******

In a small hole of a room, barely the size a closet, huddled a broken figure. It was pitch black, no light even managing to sneak in from below the door, and it was cold. So very, very cold. 

To the huddled figure, it was freezing. With no clothes to provide the barest hint of protection, all the man could do was curl up on himself to conserve body heat. This wasn't as easy as it sounded. Bruises, cuts, blisters and burn marks covered his skin. His muscles screamed in pain at the slightest movement, pounded into brittle tenderness by hours of relentless beatings. His wrists and ankles were encrusted with drying blood, hands and feet all but numb from lack of circulation as the hard plastic cuffs constricted with any shift in position. 

Thirst clawed at his throat and hunger cramped painfully at his abdominal muscles, sparking a new wave of agony along his abused nervous system. The man groaned, too weary to even cry out. He worked his tongue in his mouth, trying to build up enough saliva to soothe the ache in his throat, since there sure as hell wasn't a lot else he could do. 

Eyes closed to shut out the oppressive darkness, Nick MacKenzie retreated deep into his own mind. It would be a few more hours before his tormentor would deign to remove him from his little prison for the next session of 're-education'. He would be left alone until then. He was grateful for the reprieve, even as all his instincts told him it was the calm before the storm. He didn't care. He'd already survived a million storms, he knew that if he just held on he would survive this one as well. 

All storms, no matter how fierce or destructive, eventually died out. It was the nature of things, inevitable as the sun rising in the morning. All that varied was the length of time and the intensity of the storm as it played out. 

MacKenzie had weathered worse storms than this -- and for longer, too. 

Heedless of the fresh blood dribbling from the split in his lip, the man smiled as he remembered one such storm. 

It had happened over eleven years ago; a lifetime ago. Always subconsciously aware of the little silicon microchip implanted at the base of his brainstem, but rarely giving it a thought as it had lay quiescent since its placement, the self-employed special operative had been shocked when it suddenly pulsed. Strange signals, foreign to his brain's way of thinking, had flashed intermittently into his mind before the implant again fell silent. It had taken him a long moment to figure out those signals had not originated from him, and even longer to accept that there was only one possible source. 

KARR -- the Knight Automated Roving Robot. FLAG's prototype crime-fighting car of the future that he never even got to meet before they shut down the project and dismantled the vehicle. What had become of the advanced AI that had been the heart of the vehicle, he hadn't known or cared. 

Until the neural chip that linked him to it pulsed. 

Curiosity aroused, he'd gone in search of the AI he'd been meant to act as driver for. It had been child's play to hack into FLAGNet, the Foundation's supposedly secure intranet mainframe. From there, it had taken only a little effort to track down the data he'd sought. The KARR had been replaced with a newer, better model -- the KITT, Knight Industries Two Thousand. And the new car had a new driver as well. 

Interesting, but irrelevant for the moment. 

Further searching revealed the KARR AI had not been destroyed, and had in fact returned twice to wreak havoc on his creators before being defeated again. The last attack and subsequent defeat had come only that day -- the KARR's parts had been left strewn over a desert plain and awaited pick-up by a Foundation Recovery Team. 

Checking the location of the crash site, Nick determined that he could probably beat FLAG there if he hurried. Remembering the implant's strange signals, he decided to go for it. 

He arrived almost 15 minutes before the Recovery Team was due, and used the time wisely. Ignoring the twisted broken car and weapon parts strewn about the dusty road, he searched through the rubble for the source of the implant's pulses -- the AI's CPU. He found it, only slightly charred, buried in the tangled mess of the destroyed supercar's engine. Grabbing the small black case, he took one last glance about him, then ghosted away as silently as he'd come. 

When the Recovery Team arrived three minutes later, there was no trace left of the visitor's presence. 

Nick had brought his prize home with him and immediately set to work. Less than a month later, a new supercar had been built to house the sentient computer. The car, one of his own design, had been based not on the Trans Am the Knight Foundation favored, but on the sleek lines of a Stealth. He'd even gone so far as to make up his own batch of the indestructible coating that, once applied, would make the car virtually invulnerable. The recipe for the coating, called a Molecular Bonded Shell (MBS), was a tightly kept secret even to FLAG employee's -- but not to one who could read the personal records of the Board of Directors with just the tap of a key. Computers could be such wonderful things, for one who knew how to use them. 

And he hoped to do the same with the AI once it was installed in its new home. The CPU, cleaned and repaired, was hooked up to only the bare minimum of feedlines as work was completed on the car. There had been no response from the AI to its change in situations, but the barely detectable pulses of the implant had continued at random intervals, assuring Nick of the AI's continued survival. 

Before long, the big day arrived. The car was complete and ready to accept its new host. The installation occurred quickly, and Nick stepped back to observe the results. 

For an interminable moment, nothing happened. Then, one by one, the car's systems flickered and flared to life. 

Nick smiled. 

A second later, the expression was replaced by a tortured grimace as a loud hissing grew in the back of his mind. The pressure continued to build, magnifying in intensity until the pain in his head blinded him to all outside stimulus. His brain, unable to handle the powerful influx of fried nerves, responded the only way it could. With a hoarse scream, Nicholas MacKenzie dropped into a deep restorative unconsciousness. 

That had been the first storm he would experience with this particular source. Many more, each greater and more unpleasant than the next, would follow. Nick had eventually learned how to shield his mind, even how to fight back against the vicious mental attacks of the AI. He could have ended it all by simply destroying the AI, MBS-shielded Stealth or not, but he chose not to. Beneath each agonizing incident, Nick sensed the fear that drove the AI to fight, to kill. 

It was a fear, a weakness, he shared. And it would serve as the focal point for them to build a mutual relationship off of once they acknowledged it. Both were driven by an overwhelming need to survive, but with their minds linked through the newly activated neural implant, survival for one could only come as long as the other survived as well. 

Discovering that had been the turning point, and they'd begun to work with each other instead of against each other. They'd soon had to learn all new skills to survive, as dealing with the influence of the neural link had been hard on both man and machine. A computer's thought patterns, no matter how advanced the program, were completely alien to the human mind -- and vice-versa. Only perseverance, stubborn determination, and an incredible amount of trial and error had led to a working solution. It would be years later, when they combined forces with FLAG's other human-AI team, before they would learn just how inadequate a 'working solution' had been. 

The point was though, Nick now thought as his body's aching torment settled into a steady throbbing undercurrent, that he'd survived. Karr's attacks on his mind had been by far the most horrendous torture he'd ever faced -- no attack on his body could ever compare. Nash could do what he liked… it would never be enough to break him. 

*******

"Dr. Christopher," Karr suddenly called, spooking the agents sitting with the woman on the ranch home's front porch. "Knight is here." 

"Who?" Buck asked, as Alex smiled and visibly relaxed. He'd been trying to encourage her to do that for hours and was a bit disgruntled that this 'Knight' character had done it without even being present. 

"Michael Knight," she elaborated. "A close friend of Nick's. He's also the driver of Karr's brother, a fellow AI." 

"You mean there are two of those infernal contraptions in existence?" 

Alex chuckled. Mr. Standish had still not recovered from his affront with his earlier meeting with Karr. He kept giving the Stealth dirty looks, much to her -- and she suspected, Karr's -- amusement. 

"Yes and no," she answered vaguely, busy watching the road for the black Trans Am. "Kitt is a sentient AI, as is Karr, and they are both housed in black vehicles with human drivers. But that's pretty much where the similarities end." She smiled, seeing the sleek car turn up the driveway. "You'll see when you meet them." 

They all watched as a stylish black Trans Am, a red light panning excitedly back and forth across its prow, slid up to park so close to the dark Stealth their side mirrors were practically touching. The driver's door popped open and a tall man with full dark hair climbed out just as Alex struggled to her feet. 

"Michael," she breathed, relieved beyond words to see him. 

He was already moving quickly towards her. "Alex!" He looked her over carefully. "You okay?" 

"I've been better. I'm sorry you had to skip out on your Conference, Michael, but I'm glad you've come." 

"Yeah, well… it wasn't like we were having all that much fun in London, anyway. Just a bunch of stuffy rich people throwing their money around to look philanthropic for a good cause. Boring conversation, uncomfortable clothes, bad food, lots of free drinks… you know, the usual." He glanced over her shoulder at the waiting ATF agents. "You're sure you're okay? They been treating you all right?" 

"Hey now!" Buck protested, annoyed. 

"They've been perfect gentleman, Michael. They've taken care of me just fine. Don't worry, I'm all right." Then she shrugged, her smile dipping. "Or as all right as I will be until Nick gets back." 

Michael nodded, understanding. Wrapping an arm around Alex's shoulders to guide her back to her seat, he tossed an apologetic look to the agents with his eyes. He liked cops, even feds, and didn't really doubt they'd do their best for Alex in this situation. But he was protective of Alex, even more so now that she was injured and Nick wasn't around to protect her himself. 

Not that he'd tell her that to her face, of course. She'd probably punch his teeth in, then call Bonnie so his own ladylove could do the same. 

"Have you heard any word about Nick?" he asked, sitting himself beside her. 

She shook her head. "No. Vin is supposed to contact Karr when he finds Nick, then again when they're ready for pick up. Until then, nothing. Karr says it's too risky to communicate any more than necessary." 

"Yeah, Nash is a bastard, but he's a smart bastard." Michael agreed. "He'll probably be monitoring all communications." 

He looked thoughtfully at the remaining members of Team Seven. "So, tell me about this Vin guy. What's he like?" 

The boys glanced uncertainly at each other, then looked to their leader. Chris was glaring. He'd heard the hint of distrust beneath the unsubtle fishing expedition. While he appreciated the sense of caution the other man was showing, he didn't take kindly to anyone doubting a member of his team. 

"He's the best." Larabee said flatly. 

Michael said nothing. When Kitt had filled him in on what Karr had told him, he'd immediately requested to see the ATF agent's records. What he'd seen had both impressed and worried him. While Tanner's record since joining up with Larabee's elite hand-picked ATF team had been exemplary, as had the unclassified sections of his military career, there had been a lot of grey areas in the years before and since his stint in the Army. The bounty hunting Tanner had done didn't really bother Michael. It was almost the same type of work he did as a FLAG operative, and he'd met others of Tanner's ilk during his previous life as a Las Vegas cop. But a lot of time from Tanner's childhood on was murky and vague and that concerned him. He'd never liked the unknown. 

"Michael," Alex interjected, laying her hand on his arm. "I met Vin a few years ago, when Nick asked for his help to find a missing child. He's a good guy -- kind of shy, quiet, but with a wicked sense of humor once he relaxes. He's good at what he does, and Nick seemed to trust him. Besides," she grinned, "he's great with kids. Little Monica just latched on to him when he found her, and she wouldn't let go the whole way back. She wouldn't even let me check her over unless she was sitting on his lap the whole time." 

"Ha! That's Junior all right! Girls of all ages fawnin' all over him. Huh… wonder if it's the accent?" Buck mused, consideringly. 

JD laughed. "What's the matter, Buck? Worried your animal maggotism is gonna wear off?" 

"That's 'magnetism', boy, not 'maggotism'!" Buck scowled. "And no! I don't got nothin' to worry about. Women love me. Soon as they get a touch of the ol' Wilmington charm, they fall all over themselves to drop that skinny Texan on his skinny ass." 

Michael watched as the others met that boast with various friendly responses ranging from snorts and smiles of amusement, to heads shaking in embarrassment. The banter confirmed his assessment that the Team were close friends as well as coworkers, which was reassuring. It would be hard to deceive such highly trained observers on a daily basis as it was; without the distraction of the job it would be even harder. 

Harder, but not impossible. Michael just wasn't sure he could take the chance when it was Nick's life on the line. 

He smiled as he stood up. "Well, it's nice to have met you and I'm sure you're doing a great job taking care of Alex." He looked out at the matching black sports cars. "We all appreciate it. Don't we guys?" 

"Of course, Michael." Kitt agreed immediately, the smile audible in his voice. "We've been very concerned. It's so nice of you to look after her. We're very grateful. Aren't we, Karr?" he prompted. 

"Ecstatic." 

Kitt sighed as Michael and Alex chuckled. "Don't mind him," he told the ATF agents, "he's just got a very twisted sense of humor." 

They were frankly surprised the dark AI had any sense of humor. He'd been nothing but silently menacing or viciously caustic since they'd met him. 

Still chuckling, as much at the agents' faces as at Karr's perfect deadpan, Michael reached for the door of the Trans Am. 

"Michael?" Alex suddenly asked, noticing his motion. 

"Don't worry, Alex. I'm just going to take a drive out to the pick-up site. Check things out a little," he assured her. "Maybe see if I can pick up Tanner's trail." 

His intention was obvious, even to those who didn't know him well. Alex didn't think it would be a good idea if Michael went off after Nick and was about to say so when someone else beat her to it. 

"That will not be necessary." Karr declared, an unconscious threat underlying his tone. 

Michael stopped, turning to stare at the Stealth incredulously. Of all those he'd expected to object to his plans, the distrustful AI hadn't even been on the list. Michael knew he was one of the few humans Karr trusted at all. That he'd rather put his driver's life in some stranger's hands was inconceivable. 

"Mr. Tanner is perfectly capable of recovering Nick. You are not." Karr decreed neutrally, aware of Knight's reaction. 

//Easy, Michael. I'm sure he didn't mean it the way it sounds.// Kitt instantly jumped in to sooth, sensing his partner's growing anger at the unintentional insult. 

Michael growled. //Could have fooled me, Kitt. How the hell else do you think he meant it?! Shit, you'd think by now they'd realize we're not incompetent. But oh no! He'd rather trust some Fed than us to rescue Nick!// 

Kitt frowned. Yes, well, there was that. He and Michael weren't incompetent, but surely Nick and Karr knew that. The guarded pair had gradually opened up over the last few years, while helping Michael and Kitt learn to adapt to the alien signals of the neural implants linking their minds. Nick and Karr had become good friends to them. They had even invited Michael and Kitt to live with them at Nick's warehouse when the Foundation no longer represented safety. And in the last few years, they had let the other pair see more of themselves than most ever did. Surely they knew Michael and Kitt were worthy of that trust. So why not let them prove it? 

_Karr? he queried. 

_ I meant no disrespect to either yours or Knight's abilities, Kitt, he explained softly. _But the odds of your driver surviving against Nash's forces are minimal. Tanner, however, has skills that will permit him to infiltrate the General's headquarters and extract Nick without detection. 

Kitt frowned. _What skills? 

As Michael was also awaiting the answer to that question, Karr chose to answer aloud. But he would have to answer carefully, as Tanner's co-workers were also listening. 

"Vincent Tanner and Nicholas MacKenzie share a common past," he said obliquely. "As Nick's early training made him an effective CIA agent, Tanner's led to his career as a sharpshooter in the ATF." 

*******


	7. Predators and Prey: Part Six

PART SIX: 

Michael stared, then dropped to sit heavily on Kitt's hood. "Well, shit," he sighed, "_that_ explains a lot." 

//Guess that's what Karr meant when he said Nick had 'worked' with Tanner before.// 

//Obviously,// Michael thought, snippily, //the question is, can we trust this guy?// 

//Can we afford not to?// Kitt returned. //Michael, don't read too much into this. Nick asked for this Tanner guy himself, and Karr is willing to give him a chance. You know you can't deal with Nash on your own. What other choice do we have?// 

A sigh floated down the link, then Michael sent a smile back toward his patiently waiting partner. //I ever tell you how much it bugs me when you're being reasonable?// 

Kitt's presence rippled with light teasing laughter. //We can't both fly off the handle at the same time, you know. Besides, I'm the computer of this partnership -- I'm supposed to be the logical one.// 

Michael couldn't stop the short bark of laughter that escaped him, and for a moment Kitt reveled in the wave of fond affection washing over him. But all too soon they grew serious again, and his driver's expression darkened to match his wandering thoughts. 

Alex watched the pair for a moment, knowing just when they broke off talking through the link, then moved to join Michael on Kitt's prow. 

The FLAG operative turned to look at her as she sat beside him, and his brow drew down at the shuttered look in her eyes. Then he realized. "You knew," he stated, keeping any hint of accusation from his voice. 

But Alex's answer surprised him. 

"Not all of it, no," she admitted. "I'd met Vin before, remember, so I knew he and Nick were old acquaintances, that they'd taken the same training, but it wasn't until only a few months ago I learned what kind of training it was. You knew more about Nick by then than I did," she added calmly, not the least bit bothered by the fact. 

He nodded. "Yeah, I guess. Still, I don't like it, Alex. Tanner might have the skills, but that kinda training…? It warps the mind. What's to say--" 

"What, Michael?" Alex cut in sharply. "Nick turned out okay, how hard is it to believe Vin might have as well?" 

"But that's just it! It took Nick _years_ to get his head on straight. And he had Karr, and you, and even Kitt and I to pull him back into humanity. And--" 

"Somebody," a dark voice snarled dangerously, "better tell me what the hell you're talking about right now." 

Having forgotten they had an audience, both Alex and Michael snapped their heads around to look at the speaker of that sibilant hiss. 

Michael looked up at the black-clad blonde towering over him, and had to quell the instinct to stand at attention and salute. This guy, he thought privately, could give drill sergeants a lesson in intimidation. 

"What kind of 'training' do Vin and this MacKenzie have in common that's got you worried?" the voice continued, quieter now that it's owner had commanded their full attention. "Are you talking about the military? What Vin learned in the Army?" 

"Army?" Michael shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Karr, you wanna take this one?" he glanced at the silent Stealth. 

"No," the AI said flatly, his tone leaving no doubt what he thought about _this_ conversation. "It is none of their business." 

Chris shot the car a look, then dismissed the AI with disdain. He pinned his glare back on the man sitting before him. "Talk," he ordered. 

Knight arched an eyebrow at his impertinence, but hitched himself further back to settle comfortably against Kitt's windshield. If he was gonna have to explain General Jackson Nash and the kids of Project Phoenix, then he was damn well gonna be comfortable doing it. 

*******

Vin was fast moving beyond frustrated and straight into pure pissed off. 

He'd left Peso grazing happily at the base of a tall spruce, while he scramble up the rough trunk to the top of the thirty-foot tree. After hours of pointless wandering, he'd come across not so much as a whisper of an idea of where Nash's basecamp might be located. And the damned tracking device he'd been given had so far proved less than useless. In a last desperate bid, he'd gotten the dumb idea that maybe it just needed a clearer line of sight, so he had climbed up the tree to get to the open space up high. 

"Hell, damned if I know how this fuckin' thing works," he snarled, rankled that'd he'd put all the effort into climbing this blasted tree for nothing. Fed up, he glared at the little black box with its stubbornly blank screen, and drew back his arm to launch the hated contraption into oblivion. 

"Let's see how far ya can fly, ya worthless piece a junk!" he grinned viciously, then almost fell out the tree as he was startled by the sudden appearance of familiar dark shape skimming the forest on the ridge across from him. 

His previous mood instantly forgotten, the Texan scrambled for his scope to focus in on the object he recognized as a helicopter. Through the high magnification of the powerful rifle scope, he watched as the black military aircraft flew low over the trees along the base of one snow-capped peak, then dipped into a narrow valley shielded by two connecting ridges. In the winter, that high-altitude valley would be covered in so much snow it'd look like a glacier from far off, but in the midst of summer it was a lush green oasis among the barren rock and thin conifers. 

Vin had been there once before, to watch some big horn sheep birth their young, and he knew there wasn't anything on that side of the mountain worth the military's time. There was, however, a perfectly sheltered clearing in which a mercenary camp could be established. 

Exactly the kinda place a man like Nash would look for. 

The Hunter bared his teeth in dark pleasure. "Gotcha." 

*******

It had taken just under five hours to work his way up to a point above the valley hidden in the cleft of the mountain. Night had fallen an hour ago, and Vin had had to lead Peso up the remainder of the deer trail when it got too dark to see, but now the Hunter was positioned in the high ground with a beautifully unobscured view of the small mercenary encampment spread out beneath him. 

For the last fifteen minutes, the Hunter had studied the scene laid out below. The two buildings, one distinctly smaller than the other, were scrutinized carefully. The guards surrounding each were assessed, while the positions of those patrolling the rest the grounds were merely noted. The helicopter that had led him here was marked, then forgotten. Neither the Hunter nor his objective could operate it, and it was unarmed and unmanned, so it was of no further consequence. 

For a moment, the Hunter contemplated just lining up his rifle and taking out everything that moved, but he dismissed that idea quickly. The objective was likely well guarded; he would not be able to get to it before the target could. Any attack would have to be quick and quiet lest it alert the prey. No, the Hunter acknowledged, action would have to wait until a more opportune moment. 

But first, he smirked, it was time to do a little bit of reconnaissance. 

Slipping lithely from his perch, the Hunter scooted back down the winding trail he'd followed up here until it merged with an overhanging ledge that crested over a corner of the clearing. Crawling low on his belly, as soundless as a snake, he wormed his way to the edge and surveyed the drop down. 

Forty-five feet at least, he thought, judging the distance expertly. The overhang curved inward almost seven feet, then arched sharply into the forest surrounding the clearing. Cover at the base of the cliff was limited, the trees sparse, but the entire area was shadowed by the mountain itself -- and on this moonless night, all but invisible. 

Possible, the Hunter considered, gauging his needs to the environment. The rock face itself was jagged and rough, many hand and foot holds apparent even from his awkward perspective. Tie a rope off at the top, then rappel quickly down the side. That would be the easy part, he knew. The real trouble would come later, for as simple a climb as it appeared to him, it's true ease would depend upon the objective's physical condition. And the Hunter was under no illusions that the objective would not be wounded. 

The Hunter knew the target too well to be fooled by that. 

Still, he reasoned, the objective was a capable warrior in and of himself. The Hunter need not discount him yet. Even injured, the Ghost would likely prove a formidable ally. 

Yes, he decided, this would be an acceptable escape route. 

Now to check on the perimeter defenses, then the Hunter could retire for some sleep. 

He would need to be rested when he moved in just before dawn. 

*******

Nick closed his eyes and tried to sleep while he could. Weakened by the waves of pain washing over his immobilized body, the protective walls he'd built to shelter his mind flickered under the constant pressure. Too weary to grimace, he fought to strengthen them with his dwindling energy. The fight tired him more. He couldn't hold out much longer. 

Inside his mind, curled tightly into a ball of writhing cool blue light pocked by areas of grey, Nick slept fitfully. Unconscious, loosened of the iron control of the waking mind, the damaged presence pressed closer against the spot where it linked with another. A wavering furl of blue splayed against the block, wanting so badly to touch the smooth inky darkness of its mate but unable to get past. 

The blue presence moaned. 

*******

In the darkness of the pre-dawn, a shadow crept between the trees. Warm breath turned white as it hit the cool, thin air. A pair of bright blue eyes seemed to glow within the painted face. As the camouflaged figure slipped in and out of cover, gradually working its way toward the occupied clearing, the creatures of the woods stilled to watch it pass. A primal knowledge burned through them as they saw the slinking shadow and they scurried out of its path as quickly as they could. They alone recognized the great predator stalking through their midst, and treated it with all the fear and respect it was due. 

Unconcerned with the passage of the animals, the Hunter wove his way to the edge of the camp. He crouched low in the shrubbery, keen eyes taking in everything at a glance before focusing on the most immediate threat. Leaning against a tree only a few down from his position, the Hunter watched as the first of the prey lit a cigarette and tossed the smoldering match into the brush. A snarl crossed the Hunter's lips at this flagrant display of disrespect for the wilderness around them, and a sweet curl of anticipation licked at his mind as he contemplated the man's punishment. 

The man, unknowing and uncaring of his fate, tipped his head back as he raised the cigarette to his mouth. His eyes slipped shut in reflex as he sucked in the cancerous fumes of the death stick, and the Hunter smiled at the rightness of it. Yes, he thought, as his blade slid smoothly through the tissue of the man's throat. Yes, do that -- breathe in death, with your last breath of life. 

Seconds later the Hunter was moving around the camp, unseen by the few tired guards as he blended from shadow to shadow. Three more prey were dealt with as the first had been, the Hunter careful to stick to the outer edge of the clearing as he secured the perimeter. The only mark of his passage were a few clumps of dead leaves tossed over fresh dirt, as small claymore mines were planted every few meters along his route. 

Of the corpses he left behind, no sign could be seen. 

At last the perimeter was his, and the Hunter ducked further into the camp. The large black helicopter slept benignly on its landing pad, no guard bothering to pay it any attention. The Hunter looked at it, then smiled wickedly. Perhaps, he granted, it could indeed be of _some_ use, and he set about his task as silently as he'd done everything else. 

*******

Calling upon every ounce of stealth he'd ever possessed, the Hunter worked his way cautiously to the door of the larger of the two buildings. An earlier cursory examination had revealed that the smaller metal building was merely a glorified storage shed for the camp's few all-terrain vehicles. The General's office, soldier's barracks, ammunitions depot, and everything else were housed in the more sturdy weather-proof structure. 

The Hunter knew that was where the objective could be found, no doubt right along side the target. 

He didn't mind. He was, in fact, quite looking forward to it. The target had escaped him once; the only prey ever to have done so. The Hunter was eager to wipe that blotch off his perfect record. 

That to do so meant wiping the target off the face of the Earth was merely icing on the proverbial cake. 

Slowly, carefully, the Hunter eased the door open, conscious of the possibility -- however remote -- of it being wired with an alarm. Thankfully it was not, and the Hunter was able to slip into the dark recesses of the empty corridor. He paused for a heartbeat, then headed determinedly down the hall to his right. It headed inward to where both the objective and the target were likely to be hidden within the deepest most protected part of the building. 

It took long tense minutes for the Hunter to work his way through the dark corridors. He adjusted his course to avoid the sleeping quarters as a matter of course, and had to time his passage carefully when sneaking past the mess hall that was just opening in preparation for the morning duty shift. Even at this hour, it would be active enough to pose a threat of discovery if he were seen. Less than a half-hour later, the entire base would be active enough to guarantee discovery. Time was running out, the Hunter would have to move fast as soon as he reached the objective. 

Finally he found the way to one of his goals. Standing at the intersection of two corridors, the Hunter cautiously peered round the corners to see two guards posted outside a door. They were standing stiffly, giving the appearance of alertness, but the Hunter could see the fatigue in their eyes. These men were tired, he realized in satisfaction. Good, it meant their attention might not be as focused as they were trying to project. 

Looking carefully around, the Hunter double-checked the tenuous security of his position while he tried to work out a plan. Lax as the guards were, the door they stood sentry in front of was too exposed for him to approach unseen. No, he would need a less direct method of attack. But how? Disguise or distraction? Looking back down the hallway he'd just come from the Hunter smiled as inspiration struck. 

In his thorough inspection of the enemy fortress, a small closet bearing some useful odds and ends had been noted. It was this the Hunter headed for, easing the door open and slipping into the tiny space with barely a whisper of sound. Stacked away in the dark confines were several spare BDUs, the dark camouflaged fatigues a match to those worn by the prey. The Hunter reached for one, determined to accomplish his task and retreat as quickly as possible. 

Dressed in the enemy's apparel, the Hunter prepared to put his plan into action. Drawing in a deep breath, his hand had barely touched the doorknob when the scent registered. The Hunter paused, nostrils flaring as he sucked in more air, seeking to analyze the disturbingly familiar tang. Hs eyes widened as he identified the strange mix of odors, then he bared his teeth and suppressed the curl of rage that flamed up inside him. 

Blood, he smelt. Blood, and sweat, and vomit, and other unsavory body odors. And underlying it all, the scent of _pain_. 

The objective had been here. Had, if the Hunter's senses could be believed, spent considerable time within these tiny, filthy walls. And he had been injured while doing it, his suffering no doubt only increased by the cramped conditions. 

The objective had been tortured -- in more ways than one. 

A growl built in his throat, but he swallowed it before it could be loosed. Teeth clenched to not give away his position, the Hunter took the evidence of the miniscule confines of the room into account and added them to the charges mentally being laid against the target. 

The target would be repaid for every ounce of suffering he had caused. 

A quick check left and right assured the Hunter the way was clear, and he slipped from the tiny torture chamber. Casually, assuming the demeanor he'd observed of his prey, he approached his first mark. 

"Morning, boys," he drawled, consciously keeping the accent from his voice. "Been a long night?" 

The weary guards barely glanced at him, the stolen BDUs serving their purpose with distinction. 

"Hell, yeah," complained one guard. "Don't know why the General has us on such tight security. It's not as if anyone's gonna find this place, let alone get close enough to effect a rescue." 

The other guard snorted tiredly. "Hell, who'd wanna rescue this guy anyway?" he asked, chucking his thumb over his shoulder in indication. "Asshole's almost meaner and colder than the General is. Didn't even cry out when Bennett was beatin' him. Shit! I heard he actually tried to take a bite out of the Major when he got too close to his face." 

The Hunter nodded sympathetically, miming a wince. "Man's got balls of steel, that's for sure." 

"Pullin' shit like that while the General's around? He's nuts." The first guard opined. 

"The General around right now?" The Hunter inquired mildly, face partially turned away so as not to appear too interested in the answer. 

"Nah, gave up trying to provoke a response just after midnight. Jerk was too drugged to pay attention anyway. He left orders that he'd be back after 0700, but by then it'll be Rickets and Holmes' watch and I'll be enjoying my beauty sleep." 

"Not that you'll get enough to help you, Payton!" His buddy laughed. 

The Hunter grinned, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Oh," he said, reaching for the nearest guard, "I think you'll be gettin' lots of rest from now on." 

*******

The bodies fittingly disposed of in the small hall closet, the Hunter opened his kit and set to work unlocking the objective's cell door. Soon enough he heard the tell-tale click that signaled his success. Moving quickly but silently, he slipped inside. 

The cell was dark, pitch black dark. The door must be sealed better than he'd first thought, the Hunter realized. Still, it was no matter. Withdrawing a small tool from one of his flakvest's pockets, the Hunter turned on the little light and panned it about the empty room. Reinforced steel walls surrounded the cell. The only imperfection in the dull cement flooring was the stream of red liquid dripping from the pool underneath the room's sole occupant into the conveniently placed drain nearby. A single metal chair sat in the center of the dank place, an island in the pool of drying blood, upon which the exposed objective was securely tied. 

The objective found, the Hunter sat back to let Vin Tanner work. 

"Well, fuck," Vin whispered softly, playing his penlight over Nick MacKenzie's face, "Devil sure did make a mess of you, didn't he?" 

"took you long enough, tan--ner…" 

He was startled when he got an answer, weakly spoken though it may be. The Ghost looked like he shouldn't have been conscious, much less aware and talking. But then, Vin shouldn't have been surprised. The Ghost, like the Hunter, had reserves so deep it was not inconceivable he'd still show some strength. 

"I wouldn't be complainin' 'bout your rescue if'n I was you," Tanner joked lightly. He surveyed the tortured man under the narrow beam of the light. "Damn, MacKenzie… you stink." 

"Let's see how you smell after spending -- how many days?" 

"Um, four or five I think." Vin supplied. 

"--four or five days with Nash and his sadistic flunkies," Nick finished, coughing shallowly in the way he'd learned caused less aggravation to his injuries. 

"No thanks, had enough of that in my youth. So did you, as I recall. So let's get ya out of here before either of us has to spend anymore time with the Devil, eh?" Vin moved forward to begin the delicate process of untying the man. "God, where's all this blood comin' from?" he asked as he knelt. 

"You haven't seen my back, yet," the Ghost said grimly. 

Instantly, Vin swung the pen light up from the floor to focus on the man's naked chest, as if he could see right through it to his back. But it didn't matter. The sight the narrow beam revealed was enough to give him a pretty good idea of just what kind of damage had been done. Fine red lines, swollen and encrusted with drying blood, decorated the muscular frame in a criss-crossing pattern of pain. Vin took one look and swore. 

"If your back's anything like your front, nevermind. What was it? A whip?" 

"Hell, no. Using a whip takes skill, this guy didn't have any. Used a goddamned filament of wire -- _copper_ wire!" The Ghost sounded personally offended. 

Vin grimaced. "His incompetence probably saved your life. Though it beats me how he got past the General, if that's the case. Devil's standards ain't usually that low," he commented dryly, choosing his first target. "Anything broken?" he asked, as he slit the too-tight plasticuffs from Nick's wrists. 

Nick's jaw clenched as a new wave of agony washed over him with the return to normal blood flow, and it was a moment before he could answer. "Yesss… ah! Third and fourth ribs are at least fractured, in not broken. Left hand -- three fingers; right forearm -- ulna bone; and I'm pretty sure my nose too." 

Vin quirked an eyebrow at the recitation. "Nothin' below the waist?" 

"Didn't get that far. Was working through me syst--systematically. Left my legs for next week." 

"Lucky you." Vin bent to pick the lock on the manacles chaining those legs to the floor. "Means ya can still run." 

"Don't think I could even walk, Hunter. Nash has been developing his latest batch of field sedatives. He 'elected' to use me as his guinea pig. Can barely move a muscle, but otherwise there is no interference with the nervous system." 

"Didn't want ya to miss any of the fun, huh?" 

"Wanted to hear me scream." 

Vin chuckled darkly. "So I heard. Only you ain't been cooperatin' have ya, Nick? Still the same old stubborn bastard." He shook his head fondly. "Reckon I got something that'll make ya feel better," he said, unfurling his hand to reveal the syringe full of cloudy blue fluid. 

Nash could just barely make it out in the dark, but he knew without seeing exactly what it was. "Came prepared, didn't you?" he gasped, feeling the sting of the needle and the burn of the specially formulated stimulant being injected into his sluggish bloodstream. 

"You know me," Vin shrugged. 

Nick blinked. "Karr make you take it?" 

White teeth flashed as Tanner grinned in response. Nick grunted, reluctantly amused. 

Vin went back to work. "You got a good pard there, MacKenzie. Smart and tough, just like you. 'Course, he could use a new paint job…" 

"He okay?" Nick asked, ignoring the pain as the manacles were pealed from his bloody ankles. 

"Didn't kill nobody, if that's what ya mean. But I wouldn't wanna rile 'im up any. There, free at last." Vin stood. "How ya doin'?" 

MacKenzie closed his eyes and concentrated, hoping the stimulant had had enough time to counteract the drug the General had given him. Slowly, painfully, he felt the first stirrings of response from his messed up nervous system -- he curled his toes. 

Vin had been watching intently. "Good," he approved, "now let's get ya on yer feet and outta here." 

"Why the hurry?" a sinister voice purred from behind them. 

The Hunter froze in surprise, whirling to face one of his greatest nightmares. His penlight didn't illuminate much, but it was enough for Tanner to see the faintly amused eyes staring down at him. 

"How--?" he opened his mouth to ask how the Devil had entered without him noticing, but Nash beat him to it first. 

Unseen in the darkness, the General flicked his hand against the wall and the room was instantly bathed in a harsh white light. Nick moaned at the sudden flare of brightness, Tanner merely blinked twice without breaking his gaze. 

Smiling, taking in everything at a glance, the General waved behind him to the hidden door melded seamlessly into one corner of the room. "My private entrance," he said magnanimously. "It leads to my quarters. I like to come in every now and then and spend some time just visiting with my prodigal son." 

"He ain't your son." The Hunter growled. 

Nash ignored him. "When you entered by the main door, you triggered a silent alarm in my room. I have to admit, I am a bit surprised. I was expecting Nicholas' friend, Mr. Knight, but there's something familiar about you. Have we met?" 

There was no way in Hell Tanner was gonna answer _that_ question. 

But he didn't need to, because a moment later the General's eyes widened as recognition struck. Before Tanner could react, the mean old bastard smiled with honest pleasure. That his pleasure was as sadistic as it could get was irrelevant; he was honest about it. 

"Well, well, well…" Nash muttered softly. "What an unexpected surprise." His eyes roved up and down the sharpshooter's body, the sharp gaze missing nothing as he catalogued the changes since last he'd seen the young man. 

Slowly circling the wary Texan and beaten prisoner, Nash looked on with mounting joy at his unpredicted good fortune. "The Hunter and the Ghost, together again. How intriguing. I admit that I did not foresee this development. You'll have to excuse my lack of hospitality, I was not prepared for your arrival." 

Glaring as the arrogant Devil spoke as though he were a guest at some fancy resort instead of a new prisoner for him to get his kicks out of torturing, Vin refused to rise to the bait. He stayed silent; his only response to shift the pack of supplies on his shoulder so he'd have his gun-hand free. 

Smiling calmly as he observed the motion and easily recognizing its significance, Nash grinned broader. It would seem his wayward Hunter still retained the valuable skills the General had so painstakingly drilled into him as a child. Not that Nash expected anything less; his training was nothing if not thorough. All of his chosen soldiers became experts in their fields, their deadly responses ingrained from childhood to the point of instinct -- or they died for their failure. The General tolerated nothing less than greatness in his cadre of spies and assassins. 

The question, however, was if the Hunter was still the same killer he'd groomed or if, like the Ghost, he'd foolishly gone and developed a conscience. 

Looking at the fierce Texan now, taking into account that he'd heard nothing of the Hunter's exploits in years -- had, in fact, believed the sniper dead -- , he had to conclude it was a distinct possibility. He read nothing from the fact that Vincent was attempting to rescue Nicholas. It was almost to be expected. His trainees, while taught to be loyal, had all hated him. That they would band together against him was regrettable but not unprecedented. After all, that was the only way they had managed to remove him from his unquestioned seat of underworld power in the first place. 

He still owed them for that. 

But he didn't really want to kill either Vincent or Nicholas. They'd been two of his best graduates; the Hunter's lethal accuracy with a rifle unequalled by any other, and the Ghost's abilities with computers exceeded any expectations he could have had. He would like nothing more than to turn them back into his service. 

Or else… 

*******

"Are you telling me," Larabee growled menacingly, "that Vin Tanner is an assassin?" 

"No." 

Chris and the boys sighed in relief. 

"He _was_ an assassin," Karr continued. "He has not, to my knowledge, engaged in that activity for many years." 

"How many?" Josiah asked calmly, laying a hand on his leader's shoulder. 

"Assuming he ceased Hunting with General Nash's original defeat… eight years." 

"Eight years! But he's only 29 years old now! He wouldn't have been much more than a kid!" Buck scoffed. 

"My records show that your comrade, Agent Dunne, began his career with you at 21 years of age." 

"Exactly!" Buck crowed triumphantly, glad to have spotted the flaw in the computer's argument. "JD _started_ at 21! There's no way Vin could have been an assassin, he would have only been a teenager." 

"And your point is?" Karr asked flatly. 

Buck's jaw dropped. "You're telling me that Vin, our Vin -- the skinny little Texan that blushes to his roots if a girl smiles at him -- killed people when he was a _child_?!" 

"Yes." The AI's emotionless tone leant weight to the statement, making it sound as if any other possibility would be frankly ridiculous. 

By now, Josiah had planted both his massive hands onto Chris Larabee's shoulders and was literally holding enraged man at bay. The blazing glare coming from his eyes should have been enough to incinerate the AI where he parked -- might have, had the Stealth not had the MBS shielding. The others weren't fairing much better. JD and Ezra had a grip on each of Buck's arms to keep the big fellow from doing anything rash, although JD looked so stunned his wide brown eyes all but dominated his pale face. Ezra's handsome features were twisted into a grimace, his usual poker face unable to cope with such startling information. Only Nathan managed to maintain some composure, founded though it was on his complete and total inability to absorb what he was being told. 

"So if he was an assassin," Nathan asked, ignoring the issue of age and trying to be the voice of reason. "How did he ever pass the government background check to get hired by the ATF?" 

"Nick created a false history that was sufficient for Mr. Tanner to be accepted into the ATF as he so desired. The 'government'," Karr sneered, "is easily circumvented. An expert hacker like Nick had no trouble ensuring Tanner's true past remained undiscovered." 

"What about his time in the military?" 

"That was legit. Tanner's days as an Army Ranger, and Nick's in the CIA, we're both official covers for their true positions within the General's Project Phoenix. The records exist because they truly did serve their duty -- if not in the exact capacity so assumed. When the Project was abolished and its soldiers released upon the world, many were required to create new files. Tanner had no need to do so until he chose to join your ATF team. Then because as capable as Mr. Tanner is, he does not have the necessary technical skills for such an undertaking, Nick agreed to do it for him." 

Chris scowled. "If this MacKenzie is as much of a ruthless bastard as you've painted him to be, why would he help Vin by doing that?" 

"As a favor. Mr. Tanner is a valuable ally with useful skills of exceptional quality," Karr answered, disdain for the question's stupidity (or perhaps for the man asking it) clear in his voice. "Doing so established Mr. Tanner in Nick's debt; his services to be called upon whenever necessary." 

Michael cocked his head curiously. "Was the favor ever returned?" 

Karr hesitated. "Yes." In fact, it was during that incident that Tanner had learned of the alternate driver and AI team Wilton Knight had created for FLAG. Though Karr was not entirely sure he wanted Michael Knight or Kitt to know about it. 

Alex was suddenly interested. She hadn't heard about this before. "Oh, when?" 

Karr was quiet for a long moment, weighing the risk of answering. Finally, discomfort clear in his voice, he said: "When you were shot by Shawna Winterchild." 

Alex gasped. "Vin killed Shawna?!" She'd always assumed Nick had stopped the madwoman, though he'd never confirmed it one way or another. 

"No," Karr assured quickly. "He was assigned to guard Knight as he in turn guarded you in the hospital. At the time, Nick still believed someone was targeting those associated with him. He could not run the risk of failure again. But hunting Shawna himself, he was unavailable to protect anyone else. He had faith in Knight's ability to protect you, Alex, but feared for Knight himself. He enlisted Mr. Tanner's aid in that duty. Knight was not aware of the protection." 

"He is now!" Michael declared, irrationally angry over something that had occurred almost two years ago. 

"That is irrelevant." 

"Irrelevant!" Michael raged. "Like hell it is! I'm a grown man, I've been looking after myself for years! I don't need Nick's protection! And I sure as hell don't need a goddamn bodyguard!" 

Karr did not respond. 

_He's right, you know, Kitt reproached gently. Then he smiled down the link to his brother. _But I thank both you and Nick for looking out for him. We appreciate that you care, but you can't keep treating us like glass. We won't break, he admonished. 

_I know, Karr sighed. _But you and Knight are far more valuable than we are. We cannot just stand by and allow danger to befall you. It is our duty to protect you. 

_It is not! Kitt returned hotly, upset by his brother's self-condemning words. _You are no less worthy than us, Karr! We are no better than you; you and Nick are no worse than us! 

Karr's dark presence sat silently, refuting the argument simply by ignoring it. 

Kitt snaked a bright tendril through his CPU towards his brother, and when he was close enough to touch the inky blackness, whipped out and slapped him. Karr jolted, surprised but unhurt. 

_You and Nick are not sacrifices for our survival! You are our friends! The younger AI declared righteously, his normally light white soul flashing blindingly bright in emphasis. _You are my brother! If anything, we protect each other! 

Karr seemed taken aback at the emotion in Kitt's voice, feeling the mixed power of his brother's love and anger washing over him from the link. But underneath the anger, Karr also felt the fear. Fear for him. Fear that Kitt would lose his brother and suddenly be the only sentient AI in the world. Fear of being unique once more in a world of mortal humans. Fear of being alone. 

And suddenly Karr understood. 

He enfolded his brother's white essence in his black one, surrounding the younger AI with his own love and fierce protectiveness. _You will never be alone, Kitt, he proclaimed resolutely, directing Kitt's attention to his primary link -- the one that led to the warm amber presence that was Michael Knight. Karr looked back at his own primary link. His partner's cool blue presence was hidden by the block he could not yet lower. Not until he was given permission. 

Reaching out to run a tendril over that barrier, wishing he was soothing the worn soul of his partner, Karr smiled without so much as a touch of his customary darkness. _Neither of us will ever be alone again. 

*******

"All I have to do is call out, and my guards will come running," the General warned. 

The Hunter smiled mildly. "What guards?" 

Nash froze, then his lips peeled back to match the smile of the predator poised before him. "Oh, you are good," he breathed admiringly, and was pleased to see the flash of anger his praise generated. 

"But then, I knew that already," the General continued, his dark gaze searing into the Hunter's cold blue eyes. "After all, I trained you to be the best. You and him," he waved a negligent hand at the beaten man slumped in the room's only piece of furniture. "You were my prized creations, you and the others like you. The most elite, highly trained, lethal force in existence. You were meant for great things, Vincent. Greater than your wildest imaginations…" 

"'Great things?'" Tanner mocked contemptuously. "Imaginations? _What_ imaginations?! You turned us into mindless machines! We weren't allowed to _have_ imaginations! All we knew was what you taught us; all we knew was killin'!" 

"Yes! Don't you see?" Nash enthused, unfazed by the Texan's instinctive retreat as he approached. "You had control over life and death! You--" 

"Had nothing!" 

Tanner loosed a howl of rage and lunged at the grey-haired Devil. Nash grinned condescendingly even as he side-stepped the sloppy attack. 

"Honestly, Vincent!" he barked reproachfully. "Surely I taught you better than to telegraph your moves! Emotions, you see. That's your weakness; Nicholas', too. Emotions make you vulnerable, predictable -- they take away the edge that makes you the top predators in a sea of killers. Emotions make you sloppy!" 

Breathing hard, glaring fiercely, the Hunter scowled angrily at his ex-commander. Then, so unexpectedly that Nash actually paused in confusion, Vin Tanner suddenly smiled. 

"Maybe so," Tanner allowed, his smile growing, "but sometimes they give us just the strength we need to take you down." 

"Wha--?" Even as the General began to speak, he recognized the danger. He started to turn, realizing he'd put his back to the downed Ghost. Drugged, beaten, and broken or not -- Nicholas had been trained to fight no matter what. And he had excelled in that training. 

But it was too late that Nash remembered that for his students, _down_ did not mean _out_. A bruised and bloody forearm caught him in a chokehold, the manic strength of the grip belying the weakened state of the man applying it. Nash struggled instinctively, pulling every trick he could think of and failing each time. He'd trained his opponent, after all. Nicholas knew all his moves and could counter every one -- and even though the Ghost was weakened by days of torture, the General was more than twice his age and feeling every year. 

"No," Nash gasped, "you won't win again!" I won't let you, he thought, and suddenly remembered the remote in his pocket. Even as he upped his struggles, he closed his hand about his final solution -- and pressed the button. 

Fighting not only to keep his hold on his enemy but to stay awake, Nick was half-tempted to scream if he could only catch his breath. Instead, he could not even manage to produce a whisper of sound. All he could do was lance his eyes into Tanner's, and hope the man caught the message in time. 

Vin did, and even as Nash managed to break free of Nick's failing grip, the Texan was leaping across the space between them to land a solid blow to the General's temple. Nash dropped immediately, his dead weight pulling an exhausted Nick down with him. The action caused the innocent-looking device in Nash's hand to fall into view. 

"Wha--" Nick wheezed, then swallowed to moisten his aching throat, "is it?" 

Vin picked up the little black cylinder and almost immediately knew what it meant. The flashing countdown on the side just re-enforced that assessment. He tossed the detonator aside, swearing. 

"Shit! C'mon, MacKenzie!" Vin grabbed an elbow and heaved. "That sonuvabitch Devil has gone and fuckin' rigged the place to blow! We got less than five minutes -- move it!" 

*******

"I thought you said you killed all the guards!" Nick hissed irritably, his numerous injuries protesting the diving roll he made to avoid the automatic weapons fire strafing the air where his head had been a moment before. He could only hope the move hadn't worsened anything. 

Pulling out of his own smoother roll and into a crouch to return fire, Vin didn't even bother to look at the older operative as he hissed back. "I was bluffing!" 

"Toss me a gun! And what do you mean 'bluffing'?!" 

Vin threw him one of the Glocks and two cartridges. "Bluffing! As in lying; not telling the truth; fuckin' makin' shit up! Got a problem with that?!" 

"Considering your 'bluffing' has us trapped behind a metal shed under heavy fire in a compound due to explode any minute," Nick pumped off a quick series of rounds, feeling a flare of satisfaction as he watch three mercenaries fall, "_YES_!" 

"Well fine!" Vin ranted, digging through his bag of toys. "Maybe next time I'll jist leave yer sorry ungrateful ass in the Devil's clutches and," he hurled a grenade at a group of soldiers, "leave ya ta rot!" 

Nick ducked as the grenade blew, the percussive force of the blast sending a spray of debris his way. 

"Hey, watch it! I'm battered enough as it is, Hunter!" 

"Hell, if all yer gonna do is complain…" Vin squeezed off a few more rounds, making sure the remaining mercenaries kept their heads down as he shifted his attention between them and the leather bag at his feet. "I got better things ta do than hang around here and play!" 

Nick turned at that, his eyes lighting up in pleasure as saw the device in the Hunter's hands. 

"What the hell are you waiting for?!" he demanded. "Punch it!" 

Tanner tossed him a sardonic look. "Sir! Yes, sir!" he mocked, depressing his thumb on the first of the claymores' triggers. 

Behind the line of surviving mercenaries, a series of small but powerful explosions blew one by one as Vin cued them. The soldiers were thrown forward with each blast, until they were forced out from the trees they were sheltering behind. Out of options, the mercenaries dashed towards the only other source of cover in the entire clearing -- the hulking form of the helicopter. 

MacKenzie swore as he lost sight of his targets. "Now what?!" 

"Did I say I was done?" Vin returned calmly. 

Nick looked to see he still had one explosive left to trigger. "What? Did you plant a mine under the chopper?" 

"Nope," Vin grinned, "I planted the claymore in a pile of semtex, and jammed that _inside_ the chopper." 

"Ooh," Nick exclaimed appreciatively. "Lemme?" 

Tanner passed him the detonator, and Nick bared his teeth as he slammed the button. An explosion louder than all the others crashed into their eardrums, and the huge fireball that formed seemed to suck the air right out of their lungs. The boys watched it soar into the sky, the smoky plume commanding all attention. They turned and grinned at one another, two predators appreciating the fit ending to the hunt, then they were running in the opposite direction. 

As satisfyingly pretty as the explosion was, it was guaranteed to be small piddles compared to the one coming up. And they had no intention of being stuck in the middle of _that_! 

*******

It wasn't until they were already clear that either of them remembered that they'd left Nash behind -- alive. Together they looked back at the burning camp, then at each other. 

"Maybe…" Vin offered hesitantly, and Nick nodded tiredly. 

"Maybe," he agreed. But he didn't think so. Looking at the Texan beside him, he knew Tanner didn't either. 

The Devil hadn't died that day. They knew they'd be seeing General Jackson Nash again. It was inevitable. 

It was their destiny.

*******


	8. Predators and Prey: Part Seven

PART SEVEN: 

Karr was monitoring the signal from Vin Tanner's throat mike closely. His brother, in turn, watched him. No attempts at distraction had lasted for long. The younger AI was concerned and getting more so with every nanosecond. All right, he resolved, time for the direct approach… 

_Quit hovering, Kitt ordered. _Agent Tanner will do his best. Your worrying won't hurry him up any. 

_I'm not worrying, Karr denied sharply. 

Kitt snorted in disbelief. _Sure you aren't. That's why you're not staring at that signal. If you were a cat, your tail would be twitching. Can't you try and relax? he urged. _We've done all we can. 

Neither Alex nor Michael were pacing the halls. They were even managing to have a pleasant, if stilted, conversation with Mr. Tanner's teammates. Kitt took it as a good sign, and had been trying to draw his recalcitrant brother out as well. He wasn't having much luck. 

Karr took a moment to respond. _I don't like depending on someone else to rescue my partner, he finally admitted. 

_I know. But Nick asked for this guy. Surely that means he trusts him to succeed? 

_Yes, Karr answered noncommittally. 

Kitt nodded sympathetically, a flash of understanding flowing through the link to the dark AI. _But that doesn't necessarily mean you trust him. 

The icy presence drew in on itself. _What I believe is irrelevant. 

Kitt frowned. _No, it's not. You are entitled to your feelings, Karr. 

_Yes, but there's… The black presence rippled, then suddenly stilled. 

Kitt perked up. _What? 

Karr didn't respond. He was too busy translating the influx of vibrational data as the signal flared into life. The black mass of his soul shifted and uncoiled as the incoming information reassured him greatly. 

Kitt waited impatiently. _Well? 

_Mr. Tanner was successful, Karr said in relief. _They are on their way to the primary retrieval coordinates. 

He'd already started his engine. 

_Nick? Kitt asked quickly. 

_Injured, but awake and aware. 

_Wait for us, Kitt requested but Karr wasn't listening anymore. The young AI started his own engine, simultaneously alerting his driver. Karr wasn't going to give them much time. 

"Michael!" Kitt called excitedly through the commlink, breaking into his driver's conversation. "Vin has Nick! He's hurt, but alive! Hurry, Karr's going after him!" 

"Right, Pal, we're coming. Okay, folks!" Michael called, shooting to his feet and loping for the door. "Mission accomplished. We're on." 

Nathan was seconds behind him, his black medical bag clutched tight in his hands. Slightly slower, but no less determined, Alex limped on their tails. 

Karr was already in motion, turning the Stealth around. Kitt sat in his parking spot, his powerful engine revving at the ready. Michael and Nathan raced over to Kitt, reaching for the doors just as Karr suddenly accelerated and shot past them. Alex took one quick look, yelled at the retreating Karr, then stormed over to Michael. 

"I'm going with you." She declared vehemently, daring him to refuse her. 

Nathan froze at the passenger side door, glancing uncertainly between the injured woman and stern man. 

Expression as impassive as Nick's ever was, Michael waved the medic into the Trans Am. "No. You're not, Alex." 

When she glared harder, opening her mouth to argue, Michael gently laid a hand on her arm. His eyes softening, he spoke gently, "It's too dangerous. Nick wouldn't want you to get hurt." He caught her eyes. "You can do more for him by being here when he gets back." 

Sighing, beaten by logic, Alex nodded. She stepped back, allowing Michael to climb into the custom driver's seat. The Trans Am pulled out, speeding down the road after Karr. Alex watched them go. 

A youthful voice brought her attention back to the men she'd been left with. 

"We go could go after them, couldn't we?" JD asked, gesturing to Ezra's stylish Jaguar. The Southerner merely blinked, discomfited at the thought of subjecting his expensive roadster to danger. 

Alex took in the shiny status symbol and shook her head in disgust. Sneering, she balefully corrected their ignorance. "Those two 'cars'," she said sarcastically, pointing in the direction the Stealth and Trans Am had gone, "can travel at upwards to 300 mph for days on end. Do you really think you can catch them with some flashy heap of junk?" She stomped off, ignoring their shocked expressions. 

Quietly, almost unheard, Standish looked at his beloved automobile and whined indignantly. "_Junk_?!" 

*******

Vin was wrapping bandages around Nick's mangled wrists and ankles. He'd already wrapped the ribs and put a brace on the broken arm. Disinfectant ointment was smeared across the wire lashes, sealed under the same tight gauze that held firm the damaged ribs. Anything else would have to wait until they could get farther away from the obliterated mercenary camp. Though the injured man probably wouldn't enjoy the journey as much as his rescuer would, the Texan realized with a grim smile. Peso could be hard on anyone's bones. 

Finished with his task, Vin sat back. "I reckon that'll hold ya until Nathan can get a look at you." 

"Great. Now can I have some clothes?" 

Tanner looked at the naked man sitting on a rock with his back carefully braced against Peso's saddle. Neither man had really registered his state of undress during the tension-filled escape. Only now that they were relatively safe did such trivial things as clothing, or the lack thereof, get noticed. 

"Since when did you get a sense of modesty?" the Hunter chuckled darkly, handing the Ghost a set of stolen BDUs. 

Nick took the uniform with his undamaged hand and glared as he thrust his legs into the pants. 

Vin's eyes lightened as he began to relax. He surveyed the mottled bruises adorning the spy's chest, contrasting sharply against the stark white of the bandages. Blood still coated most of the older operative's skin, and the beginnings of a black eye were starting to show over the busted nose. He looked like a week's worth of roadkill. Smelled like it too. 

"Might not be a bad idea to cover up," Vin shook his head in mock sadness. "Wouldn't want to scare Lexi with the sight of your ugly hide." He grinned. 

Nick paused in the midst of struggling into a shirt to slant a sly grin at the Texan. "Haven't heard any complaints from her yet." 

Vin threw back his head and laughed. 

*******

"How badly is he injured? Do we know?" 

Michael spared a look for the dark-skinned medic sitting tensely in the passenger seat. "Kitt said Karr sounded more relieved than upset, so I doubt it's anything too serious. Are you worried you can't handle it?" 

Nathan Jackson shook his head. "Nah. I get a lot of practice with Team Seven. Can't none of them stay out of trouble for long." He turned to face the man driving the Trans Am. "It's amazing. I had no idea anything like this ever existed. Talking cars, a secret network of government sanctioned underaged spies and assassins... Even working with the ATF for the last three years, even working with the bunch of misfits that I do, we've never encountered anything remotely resembling the strangeness of the past few days. Don't you ever wonder how you got involved in something like this?" 

Michael chuckled wryly. "I know exactly how I got involved. I got shot in the face and left for dead on a Nevada highway. Wilton Knight, the head of Knight Industries, picked me up and remade me into Michael Knight. For me, this life may be strange but it's completely natural. I've been a FLAG employee for eleven years and Kitt's been the best part of that the entire time. I can't imagine living without him anymore. Even if being with him means I learn about the more unsavory aspects of our world." 

"But it's so…," Nathan searched for the perfect word, "extraordinary." 

"You don't know the half of it," Michael confided, grinning at the massive understatement. 

Then they were turning a corner and their wayward partners came into view. Michael's lips tightened as he got his first look at his abused friend, and his hands squeezed the steering wheel in response. Kitt was already running his medical scanners over his brother's battered driver, the report of information flooding down the open link into his mind as he parked the Trans Am beside the Stealth. Thankfully, Kitt's scans assured him it wasn't as bad as it looked, because it sure as hell looked horrible. 

Nick was draped bonelessly over Karr's driver's seat, his bootless feet hanging out the open door. Tanner stood nearby with a black horse, the animal trying to stick its head into the car to sniff at MacKenzie only to be yanked back by his owner. 

Nick looked up as they approached, and Michael grimaced as he took in the beaten features. "Jesus, Nick. You look like crap." 

Nick rolled his eyes -- well, his one good eye -- as Vin's lips quirked in amusement. "So I've heard. Repeatedly. Seems to be the first thing everyone says." 

"Yeah, well. It's true. Are you okay?" 

Nick shifted as the medic probed his ribs, the black man following Kitt's quiet medical report despite flicking a startled glance at the AI. "I'm fine. I think I got more bruises riding Tanner's goddamn horse than I did from Nash." 

"Good. I'm glad Agent Tanner was able to get you out okay. But maybe next time you'll realize you can trust me to come for you, too." 

Nick raised expressionless eyes to meet Michael's stare. "I trusted you _not_ to come for me this time," he said quietly. 

It took the FLAG operative only a moment to work out the implications of that, but slowly a touched smile spread across his face as the meaning sank in. "Thanks," he answered just as softly. 

Peso broke up the tender moment by shoving his head past Jackson to snuffle at MacKenzie's blood-dried hair. Nick tried to push the determined beast away, while Vin pulled on the reins. Finally, Karr had enough and loosed his temper on the available target. 

"Back off," he growled viciously, and no one was more surprised than he was when Peso jerked and backed up obediently. 

Vin snickered. "And on that note, I think I'll load up and get out of here. I need a bath and some decent coffee. See you back at the ranch?" 

"Yes," Michael agreed for all, getting the healer's okay for his patient to travel. "Come on, Nick. Alex is waiting." 

*******

Alex met the two sports cars as they pulled into the drive. She barely waited for the Stealth to roll to a stop before she was pulling at the driver's door. "Nick!" 

"I know, I know. 'I look like shit.' Nice to see you too, Alex." 

She hesitated to touch to him, unsure if there was anywhere not hurting. Nick reached out himself and wrapped his good arm around her waist. She leaned gently against his shoulder. "You look gorgeous to me," she pretended to simper, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. 

Michael rolled his eyes as he climbed from the Trans Am, but he was smiling. "Oh, get a room," he teased. 

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," Nathan said, coming up on Nick's other side. "You need to rest and I need to get that arm set since you refuse to go to a hospital. It's a miracle you didn't break any of them ribs and nick a lung riding Vin's fool horse. And the blood loss!" he shook his head incredulously. "I have no idea how you're still standing, the condition you're in. Miss," he turned to Alex, "your bandage could probably do with changing too." 

Nick narrowed his eyes as his lover. "You're hurt?" 

"It's nothing, just a little cut. You're in much worse shape. You need to get cleaned up and you could probably use something to eat, too. I doubt Nash fed you. When's the last time you had anything to drink?" 

Nick followed in bemusement as Alex tugged on his arm, Michael ushering him from behind as his friends discussed his health regimen for the upcoming weeks. 

Vin, who'd arrived minutes after the two AIs and used the time during their reunion to get Peso out of the trailer, watched the interaction silently. He couldn't help recognizing the similarities between he and the older operative. Both had been orphans raised to be killers, able to rely only on themselves, now with people who cared about them and would fight to take care of them. And neither he nor Nick knew how to deal with it, how to respond when under the influence of that selfless caring. 

Vin looked at his own friends. Chris and Buck were unhitching the trailer, JD had taken Peso to be brushed and watered, Nathan and Ezra were escorting the visiting trio into the house and Josiah was waiting patiently at the door. His teammates, his friends, his partners. Each and every one would have gone to the ends of hell and back for him. Each and every one had trusted him enough to let him go alone when he asked, had trusted him to come back to them. 

"Vin? You with us?" 

The sharpshooter met his friends' gaze. "Yeah," he smiled, widely and honestly, "I'm with you." 

*******

"There," Nathan said, smoothing down the last roll of gauze. "That's the best I can do. You got lucky with those cracked ribs, but the welts on your back have me concerned. They're already puffy, which means you got an infection. I'll give ya some of the same widespread antibiotics I gave your, uh… " he trailed off, unsure exactly what the lady's relationship was with the surly man. "… I gave Miss Alex. You really ought to have a cast on that arm, but if you keep it bound tightly and use the damn sling, it will be fine until you can get one." 

"Thank you, Mr. Jackson." 

The EMT met the cool blue gaze. "You're welcome, Mr. MacKenzie," he answered formally. "You've got some good friends, including those two cars. Hope you appreciate how lucky you are. Now then, Miss, soon as you're ready you come on out to the kitchen. I'll change your bandage there." He nodded politely at them, packed up his medical kit and left the room. 

Alex sat on the bed beside her mate. "He's right you know. You do have great friends." She leaned down carefully, planted a kiss on his bruised lips, then exchanged a glance with Michael before following the healer from the room. 

Michael looked with concern on the younger, but more experienced, man. "Kitt tells me Karr is still holding the block between you." 

Nick sighed, sinking back into the pillows. It felt good to be clean, fed, and thankfully warm. The only thing that could make the experience better would be if he had his partner hovering in his mind. 

"I gave Karr an order not to drop the block until I told him it was safe," he explained. 

"So why haven't you done that?" 

"It's been almost five days since the block went up, Michael. I'm exhausted, wounded… Alex is wounded… When the shield drops, I'm not going to be able to focus on anything else. Neither will Karr. And we're on foreign territory." 

"It's not 'foreign territory', Nick. It's a secluded ranch, filled with good people who are willing to fight to protect you. Neither you nor Karr are vulnerable here, Nick. Not while Kitt and I are here, not while your friend Tanner is here." 

Nick, half-asleep already, cracked open the eye he'd not even noticed had slipped closed to squint at his best friend. Michael was holding his wristwatch out before him, the faceplate opened to reveal the commlink he'd used to keep in contact with his AI partner before his neural link with Kitt had developed. 

"He's waiting, Nick." 

Ambivalent, Nick hesitated before reaching out to wrap his good hand around the watch. The bandages on his broken arm pressed against the fracture as he pulled the commlink closer, but he focused on the device instead of the pain. Michael patted him on leg, smiled at him, then slipped soundlessly from the room, pulling the locked door closed behind him. He knew without asking that he would stand sentry on the other side until Nick was able to protect himself. The Ghost could also guess that the Hunter was likely keeping a watchful (and armed) eye on him as well. Either way, he was protected. 

He stared at the silent commlink, then determinedly pressed the button that would open the channel. "Karr?" 

"Yes?" 

"Drop the block," he gave the order. 

The reply was instantaneous. The wall between them dissolved into nothing and Nick collapsed into his partner's mental embrace. The dark presence of the AI surged around his own dulled blue, wrapping his very soul in a layer of affection and fierce protectiveness. No words passed between them as the two presences, one icy black and one a cool blue pockmarked with shades of gray, wreathed and wound around one other until no outside observer would ever be able to tell them apart. 

At such a level of closeness, words were meaningless as everything felt by one was automatically felt by the other. What could be a dangerous threat in the wrong situation, the very fear that had led to the block being raised in the first place, was a priceless gift now that they were safe and secure. For a long moment, all they did was revel in the feeling of being together, united and whole once again. 

Welcome home Karr whispered, curling tighter to his soulmate. 

Nick didn't bother to voice a reply, the meaning of his gratitude floating naturally with a thought. Swathed in the security of Karr's presence, he was powerless to stop his slide into sleep. Just before he dropped off completely, he managed a thought. Don't let me sleep too long… 

Karr stood warch over him as he sank into unconsciousness. Don't worry, he vowed. I'll take care of you. And he settled in to do just that. 

*******

"I'm tellin' you, darlin', what you need is a man who can show you a real good time. None of this life and death spy stuff. Someone who'll treat ya like a princess, take you out to fancy dinners and buy you flowers. Someone who'll--" 

"Buck," Vin tried to interrupt. The first half-hour of this had been entertaining, but it was getting on to be an hour and the sleeping Ghost would be waking soon. Vin didn't really want to the see the consequences if he did before Buck was finished. "Buck, I think that's enough…" 

The big man didn't even look at him. "Not now, Vin. I'm on a roll." He picked up the woman's hand and caressed the back of her fingers. "You're a geologist, right? Reckon that means you love the outdoors. Well, lucky thing, so do I! I can show you all sorts of nice rocks in these mountains, sweet thang. All sorts of one-of-a-kind, bea-u-tiful sights you ain't gonna see no where else." His voice deepened until it practically dripped sexual invitation, lending credence to the insinuation that what he wanted to show her had nothing to do with rocks at all. 

Michael was staring in fascination. "Is he insane?" he whispered in an aside to the tracker beside him. 

Vin smirked. "Nope, he's just powered by pure hormones. Buck," he tried again, "you really don't wanna be doing this." 

Alex cast a coy glance at the other men from under her eyelashes. "Don't ruin his fun," she teased. 

"Ain't his fun I'm worried about," Vin drawled. "I'm more afraid of what Nick will do to him when he finds out. Guaranteed it won't be pretty. Might be fun to watch though," he said brazenly. 

"Jealous husband?" Buck queried, not looking too put out by the possibility. 

Michael's lips twitched. "Something like that." 

Buck looked at Alex's hands. "No ring," he observed. 

"Does there have to be one?" 

"Ah. So... not married?" He bobbed his eyebrows, his leer growing wider beneath his mustache as he leaned in towards her. 

"But very much spoken for," said someone behind him. 

Vin and Michael laughed as Buck jumped in his seat and scooted reflexively away from the woman he'd been relentlessly flirting with. "No need to go sneaking up on folks! We were just talking, anyway. Pretty lady like this," he flashed a wink at Alex, "deserves a little attention from the males around her. It's all in good fun," Buck added defensively. 

Nick's lips pulled back over his teeth, making his face look all the more ghoulish when combined with the impressive bruising. "Oh, absolutely," he agreed softly. "All in good fun. And yes, Alex is a very beautiful woman, she deserves plenty of attention. I'm sure she appreciates it. I've always liked her skin tone," he continued conversationally, painstakingly lowering himself to the sofa on Alex's other side. 

He ran his bandaged fingertips across his lover's chin. "She's part native, you see. Gitskan. She inherited her mother's coloring. It's very flattering on her." 

Buck was nodding, smiling as he happily commiserated with a like-minded male about the fortunes of feminine beauty. "Oh yeah," he sighed. "Goes great with those lovely dark eyes of hers. It's like starin' at the night sky, with the way the light of her soul just sparkles out them ebony pools." 

Alex, polite smile fixed plastically to her face, was struggling not to break out laughing as the ATF agent waxed poetic about feature after feature. Nick encouraged him, smiling and nodding and pointing out a certain curl of her hair or the mole hidden by her ear. She dared not make eye contact with either Michael Knight or Vin Tanner, whom she could just see out of the corner of her eye. Both men, standing side by side as they watch the show, wore big grins and frequently shook their heads in disbelief. Michael's chest occasionally heaved, as if on the verge of losing control of the laughter trapped in his diaphragm. Vin, on the other hand, seemed to be more in awe than anything. 

Buck, however, remained completely oblivious to the danger he'd walked blindly into. He was still blathering on, this time about her fine-boned (if callused) fingers. "… such long, delicate things. So gentle, but strong. Meant to be wrapped around something--" 

Vin couldn't take it anymore. "Goddamn, Nick! Put him out of our misery already!" 

Nick flicked his gaze to meet the Texan's. "Hmm?" 

But the Hunter recognized the feral glow the Ghost's icy blue eyes and knew he was right. "Quit toyin' with poor Bucklin. Yer lucky these boys don't know you like I do, or they mighta been tempted to draw their guns on you. It's downright terrifyin' watching you do that. Playin' with the man like a cat with a mouse. Just chew him up and spit him out or leave him alone." 

Nick's mildly pleasant expression dropped instantly. "Ah, Hunter," he said magnanimously. "It's all in good fun." 

Buck looked stunned, and that was it for Alex. Her control shattered and she almost popped her stitches with the force of her laughter. Michael quickly joined her, and even Vin let out a few sniggers. The other ATF agents smiled as well, realizing their lady-chasing teammate had finally met his match. 

Nick looked disappointed that his game was up. "You couldn't have given me five more minutes, Tanner? I was just moving in for the kill." 

"I know," Vin said unsympathetically. "I've seen you do it. Makin' small talk with yer target seconds before ya slit his throat. Ain't natural how ya can do that." 

"Skill," Nick asserted. 

"Lunacy," Vin countered. 

Nick quirked an eyebrow, or tried to anyway. "You just have no respect for your betters," he decided. 

"Betters?" Vin scoffed. "I don't think so. M' elders, maybe." 

"You'll think it when I shoot in you the ass, Hunter," the Ghost growled, narrowing his one good eye to glare balefully at the ex-assassin. 

The Hunter shifted his weight to stand hipshot directly in the line of fire, then crossed his arms without a care in the world. "Gotta catch me first, 'old man'." 

Nick's glare upped to full intensity, the icy gaze of death only minimally hampered by having one eye sealed shut against it. 

"Oooh!" Hunter snickered. "Big bad Ghost is givin' me the 'evil eye'. Reckon I'm feeling scared now!" He shivered theatrically. 

"Irritates the hell out of ya, doesn't it?" Larabee commiserated when Nick sighed in resignation. "Tanner's refusal to be properly intimidated by a glare that sends most folks running for cover." 

"It's a sign of brain damage," Nick revealed gravely. "He took one too many hits to the head when he was a kid." 

"Only 'cause ya kept trying to take my head off!" Vin accused hotly. 

Nick smirked at him. "Just because you couldn't learn how to duck…" 

"Don't you blame that on me, Nicholas! You had 60 pounds 'n almost five years on me, not too mention three more years worth a trainin', ya lyin' snake! Y'all was just pickin' on the little kid and you know it!" 

"We were following orders," Nick claimed levelly. 

"And havin' a damn fun time doin' it too!" 

Watching the by-play, Michael couldn't help feeling amazed as his usually serious partner degenerated into a juvenile game of one-up-manship. He turned his regard on the other men positioned about the room, all of them watching the verbal tennis-match in bemusement. 

"Is it just me," he commented to the room at large, "or are they bickering like children?" 

Instantly, the 'children' broke off their jousting to swivel round to face him. Michael gulped, suddenly confronted by twin lethal blue-eyed glares promising no end of imaginative pain to his person. He knew they could deliver, too. 

"Nevermind," he backtracked quickly, and slammed a block in his partner's face when Kitt laughed at him. 

*******

Vin sat on the porch steps hours after everyone had gone to bed. The cloud cover had finally parted and the night sky glittered with stars, so many more than he would ever be able to see from his own apartment. It was one of the reasons he felt so comfortable out at the ranch; being so close to nature, feeling like a part of it. The other was the man who owned the house and made it feel like a home. 

It was good to be home. 

"Just gonna leave without sayin' goodbye?" he asked softly, not looking behind him. 

"Thought we'd head out," came the equally quiet reply, not really an answer. 

Now Vin turned his head, meeting the shadowed gaze of the man who moved soundlessly down the stairs. Behind him, not quite so silent but trying, were two others. 

Vin smiled humorlessly. There were a dozen things he could say, a dozen things he would have said were it anyone else but the Ghost standing before him. He said none of the them. 

Nicholas MacKenzie nodded, face expressionless despite the bruises, and raised his unbroken arm out before him. He curled his taped-up fingers into an awkward fist and rotated the arm at the elbow until his hand was level with his opposite shoulder. He held the position rigidly, eyes on the Texan. 

Vincent Tanner watched impassively, then flowed fluidly to his feet. He copied the gesture with his own arm, took one step forward, and touched his forearm to the other man's. 

Forearms crossed, the two ex-operatives locked cool blue eyes to cool blue eyes. 

"Anytime," the Hunter said. 

"Anywhere," the Ghost answered. 

"Anything," they finished together. 

And Vin stayed on the steps and said nothing more as he watched three people climb into two matching black sports cars, powerful engines running muted, and drive away as inconspicuously as they'd arrived. 

*******

The End.


End file.
